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Building  IJggjtyjfy 


ARY  OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 
AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


OCT  5     1988 


ENDOWED  BY  THE 

DIALECTIC  AND  PHILANTHROPIC 

SOCIETIES 

lie:.  ARY 
SCHQQ] 


JH 
Page 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


PRESENTED  BY 


William  R.    Cox 


/ 


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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

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AMONG    THE     CAMPS 


BY  THOMAS  NELSON    PAGE. 


ELSKET    AND    OTHER     STORIES,      umo,   $1.00 
NEWFOUND    RIVER.      l2mo,  .  .       1  00 

IN   OLE   VIRGINIA,     umo I  25 

THE  SAME.  Cameo  Edition.  With  an  etch- 
ing by    W.   L.  Sheppard.      i6mo,  .  .        1.25 

AMONG      THE       CAMPS.         Young    People's 

Stones  of  the  War.      Illustrated.      Sq     8vo,      1.50 

TWO  LITTLE  CONFEDERATES.  Illus- 
trated.     Square  8vo 15° 

"BEFO'  DE  WAR."  Echoes  of  Negro  Dia- 
lect. By.  A.  C.  Gordon  and  Thomas 
Nelson    Page       l2mo,  ....       1.00 


HALT  !  '      BANG,  BANG,   WENT    THE    GUNS    IN    HIS    VERY    FACE. 


AMONG     THE     CAMPS 


OR 


YOUNG  TEOPLE'S  STORIES   OF   THE  WAR 

^  5 

BY 

THOMAS    NELSON    PAGE 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW   YORK 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 

1891 


Copyright,  1891,  bv 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Press  of  J.  J.  Little  &  Co. 
Astor  Place,  New  York 


%\o  S*cv 


NOTE. 

My  acknowledgments  are  due  to  Messrs.  Harper  &■  Brothers 
and  to  Mr.  A.  B.  Starey,  the  Publishers  and  the  Editor  of 
HARPERS'  YOUNG  PEOPLE,  in  which  Magazine  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  having  these  stories,  with  the  accompanying  illus- 
trations, first  appear. 

T.  N.  P. 


CONTENTS. 

A  Captured  Santa  Clans Page    i 

Kittykin,  and  the  Part  She  Played  in  the  War    .  "41 

"  Nancy  Pansy " "     65 

"Jack  and  Jake"   ...........  "115 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

"Halt!"  Bang,  bang,  went  the  Guns  in  His  very  Face  .        Frontispiece 

Colonel  Stafford  opens  the  Bundle .  Page     n 

"What  You  Children  guine  do  void  dat  little  Cat?"  asked 

Mammy,  severely "41 

"  1  Want  My  Kittykin,"  said  Evelyn 54 

Nancy  Pansy  clasped  Harry  closely  to  Her  Bosom    ...  "77 

She  ran  up  to  Him,  putting  up  Her  Face  to  be  Kissed   .  "      gi 

He   drew    Them    Plans    of   the    Roads    and    Hills  and    big- 
Woods •'•'    123 

Jack  made  a  running  Noose  in  the  Rope  and  tried  to  throw 

it  over  the  Horse's  Head "     i^g 


A    CAPTURED    SANTA    CLAUS. 


i. 

HOLLY  HILL  was  the  place  for  Christmas  !    From  Bob 
down   to    brown- eyed   Evelyn,   with   her  golden   hair 
floating  all  around  her,  every  one  hung  up  a  stocking, 
and  the  visit  of  Santa  Ciaus  was  the  event  of  the  year. 

They  went  to  sleep  on  the  night  before  Christmas — or 
rather  they  went  to  bed,  for  sleep  was  long  far  from  their  eyes, 
— with  little  squeakings  and  gurglings,  like  so  many  little  white 
mice,  and  if  Santa  Claus  had  not  always  been  so  very  punc- 
tual in  disappearing  up  the  chimney  before  daybreak,  he  must 
certainly  have  been  caught  ;  for  by  the  time  the  chickens  were 
crowing  in  the  morning  there  would  be  an  answering-  twitter 
through  the  house,  and  with  a  patter  of  little  feet  and  sub- 
dued laughter  small  white-clad  figures  would  steal  through 
the  dim  light  of  dusky  rooms  and  passages,  opening  doors 
with  sudden  bursts,  and  shouting'  "Christmas  gift!"  into 
darkened  chambers,  at  still  sleeping  elders,  then  scurrying 
away  in  the  gray  light  to  rake  open  the  hickory  embers  and 
revel  in  the  exploration  of  their  crowded  stockings. 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLA  US. 


Such  was  Christmas  morning  at  Holly  Hill  in  the  old 
times  before  the  war.  Thus  it  was,  that  at  Christmas  1863, 
when  there  were  no  hew  toys  to  be  had  for  love  or  money, 
there  were  much  disappointment  and  some  murmurs  at  Holly 
Hill.  The  children  had  never  really  felt  the  war  until  then, 
though  their  father,  Major  Stafford,  had  been  off,  first  with 
his  company  and  then  with  his  regiment,  since  April,  1861. 
Now  from  Mrs.  Stafford  down  to  little  tot  Evelyn,  there  was 
an  absence  of  the  merriment  which  Christmas  always  brought 
with  it.  Their  mother  had  done  all  she  could  to  collect  such 
presents  as  were  within  her  reach,  but  the  youngsters  were 
much  too  sharp  not  to  know  that  the  presents  were  "just 
fixed  up  "  ;  and  when  they  were  all  gathered  around  the  fire 
in  their  mother's  chamber,  Christmas  morning,  looking  over 
their  presents,  their  little  faces  wore  an  expression  of  pathetic 
disappointment. 

"  I  don't  think  much  of  this  Christmas,"  announced  Ran, 
with  characteristic  gravity,  looking  down  on  his  presents  with 
an  air  of  contempt.  "A  hatchet,  a  ball  of  string,  and  a  hare- 
trap  isn't  much." 

Mrs.  Stafford  smiled,  but  the  smile  soon  died  away  into 
an  expression  of  sadness. 

"  I  too  have  to  do  without  my  Christmas  gift,"  she  said. 
"Your  father  wrote  me  that  he  hoped  to  spend  Christmas 
with  us,  and  he  has  not  come." 

"  Never  mind  ;  he  may  come  yet,"  said  Bob  encourag- 
ingly.    (Bob  always  was  encouraging.     That  was  why  he  was 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLAUS. 


"Old  Bob.")  "An  axe  was  just  the  thing  I  wanted,  mamma," 
said  he,  shouldering  his  new  possession  proudly. 

Mrs.  Stafford's  face  lit  up  again. 

"And  a  hatchet  was  what  I  wanted,"  admitted  Ran; 
"now  I  can  make  my  own  hare-traps." 

"  An'  I  like  a  broked  knife,"  asserted  Charlie  stoutly,  fall- 
ing valiantly  into  the  general  movement,  whilst  Evelyn  pushed 
her  long  hair  out  of  her  eyes,  and  hugged  her  baby,  declar- 
ing: 

"  I  love  my  dolly,  and  I  love  Santa  Tlaus,  an'  I  love  my 
papa,"  at  which  her  mother  took  the  little  midget  to  her 
bosom,  doll  and  all,  and  hid  her  face  in  her  tangled  curls. 


II. 


THE  holiday  was  scarcely  over  when  one  evening  Major 
Stafford  galloped  up  to  the  gate,  his  black  horse  Ajax 
splashed  with  mud  to  his  ear- tips. 

The  Major  soon  heard  all  about  the  little  ones' disappoint- 
ment at  not  receiving  any  new  presents. 

"  Santa  Tlaus  didn'  turn  this  Trismas,  but  he's  tummin' 
next  Trismas,"  said  Evelyn,  looking  wisely  up  at  him,  that 
evening,  from  the  rug  where  she  was  vainly  trying  to  make 
her  doll's  head  stick  on  her  broken  shoulders. 

"  And  why  did  he  not  come  this  Christmas,  Miss  Wis- 
dom?" laughed  her  father,  touching  her  with  the  toe  of  his 
boot. 

"Tause  the  Yankees  wouldn'  let  him,"  said  she  gravely, 
holding  her  doll  up  and  looking  at  it  pensively,  her  head  on 
one  side. 

"And  why,  then,  should  he  come  next  year?" 

"Tause  God's  goin'  to  make  him."  She  turned  the 
mutilated  baby  around  and  examined  it  gravely,  with  her  shin- 
ing head  set  on  the  other  side. 

"  There's  faith  for  you,"  said  Mrs.  Stafford,  as  her  hus- 
band asked,  "  How  do  you  know  this  ?" 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLA  US. 


"  Tause  God  told  me,"  answered  Evelyn,  still  busy  with 
her  inspection. 

"  He  did  ?     What  is  Santa  Claus  going  to  bring  you  ?" 

The  little  mite  sprang  to  her  feet.  "  He's  goin'  to  bring 
me — a — great — big — dolly — with  real  sure  nough  hair,  and 
blue  eyes  that  will  go  to  sleep."  Her  face  was  aglow,  and 
she  stretched  her  hands  wide  apart  to  give  the  size. 

"She  has  dreamt  it,"  said  the  Major,  in  an  undertone,  to 
her  mother.  "  There  is  not  such  a  doll  as  that  in  the  South- 
ern Confederacy,"  he  continued. 

The  child  caught  his  meaning.  "Yes,  he  is,"  she  insisted, 
"  'cause  I  asked  him  an'  he  said  he  would  ;  and  Charlie " 

Just  then  that  youngster  himself  burst  into  the  room,  a 
small  whirlwind  in  petticoats.  As  soon  as  his  cyclonic  ten- 
dencies could  be  curbed,  his  father  asked  him  : 

"Well,  what  did  you  ask  Santa  Claus  for,  young  man  ?" 

"  For  a  pair  of  breeches  and  a  sword,"  answered  the  boy, 
promptly,  striking  an  attitude. 

"  Well,  upon  my  word  ! "  laughed  his  father,  eying  the 
erect  little  figure  and  the  steady,  clear  eyes  which  looked 
proudly  up  at  him.  "I  had  no  idea  what  a  young  Achilles 
we  had  here.     You  shall  have  them." 

The  boy  nodded  gravely.  "  All  right.  When  I  get  to 
be  a  man  I  won't  let  anybody  make  my  mamma  cry."  He 
advanced  a  step,  with  head  up,  the  very  picture  of  spirit. 

"Ah!  you  won't?"  said  his  father,  with  a  gesture  to 
prevent  his  wife  interrupting. 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLA  US. 


"  Nor  my  little  sister,"  said  the  young  warrior,  patron- 
izingly, swelling  with  infantile  importance. 

"  No  ;  he  won't  let  anybody  make  me  ky,"  chimed  in 
Evelyn,  promptly  accepting  the  proffered  protection. 

"  On  my  word,  Ellen,  the  fellow  has  some  of  the  old  blood 
in  him,"  said  Major  Stafford,  much  pleased.  "  Come  here, 
my  young  knight."  He  drew  the  boy  up  to  him.  "  I  had 
rather  have  heard  you  say  that  than  have  won  a  brigadier's 
wreath.  You  shall  have  your  breeches  and  your  sword  next 
Christmas.  Were  I  the  king  I  should  give  you  your  spurs. 
Remember,  never  let  any  one  make  your  mother  or  sister 
cry." 

Charlie  nodded  in  token  of  his  acceptance  of  the  condi- 
tion. 

"All  riofit,"  he  said. 


III. 


WHEN  Major  Stafford  galloped  away,  on  his  return 
to  his  command,  the  little  group  at  the  lawn  gate 
shouted  many  messages  after  him.  The  last  thing  he 
heard  was  Charlie's  treble,  as  he  seated  himself  on  the  gate- 
post, calling  to  him  not  to  forget  to  make  Santa  Claus  bring 
him  a  pair  of  breeches  and  a  sword,  and  Evelyn's  little  voice 
reminding  him  of  her  "  dolly  that  can  go  to  sleep." 

Many  times  during  the  ensuing  year,  amid  the  hardships 
of  the  campaign,  the  privations  of  the  march,  and  the  dangers 
of  battle,  the  Major  heard  those  little  voices  calling  to  him. 
In  the  autumn  he  won  the  three  stars  of  a  colonel  for  gal- 
lantry in  leading  a  desperate  charge  on  a  town,  in  a  perilous 
raid  into  the  heart  of  the  enemy's  country,  and  holding  the 
place  ;  but  none  knew,  when  he  dashed  into  the  town  at  the 
head  of  his  regiment  under  a  hail  of  bullets,  that  his  mind 
was  full  of  toyshops  and  clothing  stores,  and  that  when  he 
was  so  stoutly  holding  his  position  he  was  guarding  a  little 
boy's  suit,  a  small  sword  with  a  gilded  scabbard,  and  a  large 
doll  with  flowing  ringlets  and  eyes  that  could  "go  to  sleep." 
Some  of  his  friends  during  that  year  had  charged  the  Major 
with  growing  miserly,  and  rallied  him  upon  hoarding  up  his 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLA  US. 


pay  and  carrying  large  rolls  of  Confederate  money  about  his 
person  ;  and  when,  just  before  the  raid,  he  invested  his  entire 
year's  pay  in  four  or  five  ten-dollar  gold  pieces,  they  vowed 
he  was  mad. 

The  Major,  however,  always  met  these  charges  with  a 
smile.  And  as  soon  as  his  position  was  assured  in  the  cap- 
tured town  he  proved  his  sanity. 

The  owner  of  a  handsome  store  on  the  principal  street, 
over  which  was  a  large  sign,  "  Men's  and  Boys'  Clothes," 
peeping  out,  saw  a  Confederate  major  ride  up  to  the  door, 
which  had  been  hastily  fastened  when  the  fight  began,  and 
rap  on  it  with  the  handle  of  his  sword.  There  was  something 
in  the  rap  that  was  imperative,  and  fearing  violence  if  he 
failed  to  respond,  he  hastily  opened  the  door.  The  officer 
entered,  and  quickly  selected  a  little  uniform  suit  of  blue 
cloth  with  brass  buttons. 

"  What  is  the  price  of  this  ?" 

"  Ten  dollars,"  stammered  the  shopkeeper. 

To  his  astonishment  the  Confederate  officer  put  his  hand  in 
his  pocket  and  laid  a  ten-dollar  gold  piece  on  the  counter. 

"  Now  show  me  where  there  is  a  toyshop." 

There  was  one  only  a  few  doors  off,  and  there  the  Major 
selected  a  child's  sword  handsomely  ornamented,  and  the 
most  beautiful  doll,  over  whose  eyes  stole  the  whitest  of  rose- 
leaf  eyelids,  and  which  could  talk  and  do  other  wonderful 
things.  He  astonished  this  shopkeeper  also  by  laying  down 
another  gold  piece.      This  left  him  but  two  or  three   more  of 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLA  US. 


the  proceeds  of  his  year's  pay,  and  these  he  soon  handed  over 
a  counter  to  a  jeweller,  who  gave  him  a  small  package  in 
exchange. 

All  during  the  remainder  of  the  campaign  Colonel  Stafford 
carried  a  package  carefully  sealed,  and  strapped  on  behind 
his  saddle.  His  care  of  it  and  his  secrecy  about  it  were 
the  subjects  of  many  jests  among  his  friends  in  the  brigade, 
and  when  in  an  engagement  his  horse  was  shot,  and  the  Col- 
onel, under  a  hot  fire,  stopped  and  calmly  unbuckled  his  bun- 
dle, and  during  the  rest  of  the  fight  carried  it  in  his  hand, 
there  was  a  clamor  that  he  should  disclose  the  contents. 
Even  an  offer  to  sing  them  a  song  would  not  appease  them. 

The  brigade  officers  were  gathered  around  a  camp-fire  that 
night  on  the  edge  of  the  bloody  field.  A  Federal  officer, 
Colonel  Denby,  who  had  been  slightly  wounded  and  captured 
in  the  fight,  and  who  now  sat  somewhat  grim  and  moody 
before  the  fire,  was  their  guest. 

"  Now,  Stafford,  open  the  bundle  and  let  us  into  the 
secret,"  they  all  said.  The  Colonel,  without  a  word,  rose  and 
brought  the  parcel  up  to  the  fire.  Kneeling  down,  he  took 
out  his  knife  and  carefully  ripped  open  the  outer  cover. 
Many  a  jest  was  levelled  at  him  across  the  blazing  logs  as  he 
did  so. 

One  said  the  Colonel  had  turned  peddler,  and  was  trying 
to  eke  out  a  living  by  running  the  blockade  on  Lilliputian 
principles  ;  another  wagered  that  he  had  it  full  of  Confeder- 
ate bills  ;  a  third,  that  it  was  a  talisman   against  bullets,  and 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLA  US. 


so  on.  Within  the  outer  covering  were  several  others  ;  but 
at  length  the  last  was  reached.  As  the  Colonel  ripped  care- 
fully, the  group  gathered  around  and  bent  breathlessly  over 
him,  the  light  from  the  blazing  camp-fire  shining  ruddily  on 
their  eager,  weather-tanned  faces.  When  the  Colonel  put  in 
his  hand  and  drew  out  a  toy  sword,  there  was  a  general  ex- 
clamation, followed  by  a  dead  silence  ;  but  when  he  took  the 
doll  from  her  soft  wrapping,  and  then  unrolled  and  held  up 
a  pair  of  little  trousers  not  much  longer  than  a  man's  hand, 
and  just  the  size  for  a  five-year-old  boy,  the  men  turned  away 
their  faces  from  the  fire,  and  more  than  one  who  had  boys  of 
his  own  at  home,  put  his  hand  up  to  his  eyes. 

One  of  them,  a  bronzed  and  weather-beaten  officer,  who 
had  charged  the  Colonel  with  being  a  miser,  stretched  him- 
self out  on  the  ground,  flat  on  his  face,  and  sobbed  aloud  as 
Colonel  Stafford  gently  told  his  story  of  Charlie  and  Evelyn. 
Even  the  grim  face  of  Colonel  Denby  looked  somewhat 
changed  in  the  light  of  the  fire,  and  he  reached  over  for  the 
doll  and  gazed  at  it  steadily  for  some  time. 


IV. 


DURING  the  whole  year  the  children  had  been  looking 
forward  to  the  coming  of  Christmas.  Charlie's  out- 
bursts of  petulance  and  not  rare  fits  of  anger  were 
invariably  checked  if  any  mention  was  made  of  his  father's 
injunction,  and  at  length  he  became  accustomed  to  curb  him- 
self by  the  recollection  of  the  charge  he  had  received.  If  he 
fell  and  hurt  himself  in  his  constant  attempt  to  climb  up  im- 
possible places,  he  would  simply  rub  himself  and  say,  proudly, 
"  I  don't  cry  now,  I  am  a  knight,  and  next  Christmas  I  am 
going  to  be  a  man,  'cause  my  papa's  goin'  to  tell  Santa  Claus 
to  bring  me  a  pair  of  breeches  and  a  sword."  Evelyn  could 
not  help  crying  when  she  was  hurt,  for  she  was  only  a  little 
girl ;  but  she  added  to  her  prayer  of  "  God  bless  and  keep  my 
papa,  and  bring  him  safe  home,"  the  petition,  "  Please,  God, 
bless  and  keep  Santa  Tlaus,  and  let  him  come  here  Trismas." 
Old  Bob  and  Ran  too,  as  well  as  the  vouneer  ones, 
looked  forward  eagerly  to   Christmas. 

But  some  time  before  Christmas  the  steady  advance  of 
the  Union  armies  brought  Holly  Hill  and  the  Holly  Hill 
children  far  within  the  Federal  lines,  and  shut  out  all  chance 
of  their  being  reached  by  any  message  or  thing  from   their 


i4  A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLAUS. 

father.  The  only  Confederates  the  children  ever  saw  now 
were  the  prisoners  who  were  being  passed  back  on  their  way 
to  prison.  The  only  news  they  ever  received  were  the 
rumors  which  reached  them  from  Federal  sources.  Mrs.  Staf- 
ford's heart  was  heavy  within  her,  and  when,  a  day  or  two 
before  Christmas,  she  heard  Charlie  and  Evelyn,  as  they  sat 
before  the  fire,  gravely  talking  to  each  other  of  the  long- 
expected  presents  which  their  father  had  promised  that  Santa 
Claus  should  bring-  them,  she  could  stand  it  no  longer.  She 
took  Bob  and  Ran  into  her  room,  and  there  told  them  that  now 
it  was  impossible  for  their  father  to  come,  and  that  the)'  must 
help  her  entertain  "the  children"  and  console  them  for  their 
disappointment.  The  two  boys  responded  heartily,  as  true 
boys  always  will  when  thrown  on  their  manliness. 

For  the  next  two  days  Mrs.  Stafford  and  both  the  boys 
were  busy.  Mrs.  Stafford,  when  Charlie  was  not  present, 
gave  her  time  to  cutting  out  and  making  a  little  gray  uni- 
form suit  from  an  old  coat  which  her  husband  had  worn 
when  he  first  entered  the  army;  whilst  the  boys  employed 
themselves,  Bob  in  making  a  pretty  little  sword  and  scabbard 
out  of  an  old  piece  of  gutter,  and  Ran,  who  had  a  wonderful 
turn,  in  carving  a  doll  from  a  piece  of  hard  seasoned  wood. 

The  day  before  Christmas  they  lost  a  little  time  in  follow- 
ing and  pitying  a  small  lot  of  prisoners  who  passed  along 
the  road  by  the  gate.  The  boys  were  always  pitying  the 
prisoners  and  planning  means  to  rescue  them,  for  they  had  an 
idea  that  they  suffered  a  terrible  fate.     Only  one  certain  case 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLAUS.  15 

had  come  to  their  knowledge.  A  young  man  had  one  day 
been  carried  by  the  Holly  Hill  gate  on  his  way  to  the  head- 
quarters of  the  officer  in  command  of  that  portion  of  the 
lines,  General  Denby.  He  was  in  citizen's  clothes  and  was 
charged  with  being  a  spy.  The  next  morning  Ran,  who  had 
risen  early  to  visit  his  hare-traps,  rushed  into  his  mother's 
room  white-faced  and  wide-eyed. 

"Oh,  mamma!"  he  gasped,  "they  have  hung  him,  just 
because  he  had  on   those  clothes ! " 

Mrs.  Stafford,  though  she  was  much  moved  herself, 
endeavored  to  explain  to  the  boy  that  this  was  one  of  the 
laws  of  war  ;  but  Ran's  mind  was  not  able  to  comprehend 
the  principles  which  imposed  so  cruel  a  sentence  for  what 
he  deemed  so  harmless  a  fault. 

This  act  and  some  other  measures  of  severity  gave  Gen- 
eral Denby  a  reputation  of  much  harshness  among  the  few 
old  residents  who  yet  remained  at  their  homes  in  the  lines, 
and  the  children  used  to  gaze  at  him  furtively  as  he  would 
ride  by,  grim  and  stern,  followed  by  his  staff.  Yet  there 
were  those  who  said  that  General  Denby's  rigor  was  simply 
the  result  of  a  high  standard  of  duty,  and  that  at  bottom  he 
had  a  soft  heart. 


V. 


THE  approach  of  Christmas  was  recognized  even  in  the 
Federal  camps,  and  many  a  song  and  ringing  laugh 
were  heard  around  the  camp-fires,  and  in  the  tents 
and  little  cabins  used  as  winter  quarters,  over  the  boxes 
which  were  pouring  in  from  home.  The  troops  in  the  camps 
near  General  Denby's  headquarters  on  Christmas  eve  had 
been  larking  and  frolicking  all  day  like  so  many  children, 
preparing  for  the  festivities  of  the  evening,  when  they  pro- 
posed to  have  a  Christmas  tree  and  other  entertainments  ; 
and  the  General,  as  he  sat  in  the  front  room  in  the  house 
used  as  his  headquarters,  writing  official  papers,  had  more 
than  once  during  the  afternoon  frowned  at  the  noise  outside 
which  had  disturbed  him.  At  length,  however,  late  in  the 
afternoon,  he  finished  his  work,  and  having  dismissed  his 
adjutant,  he  locked  the  door,  and  pushing  aside  all  his 
business  papers,  took  from  his  pocket  a  little  letter  and  began 
to  read. 

As  he  read,  the  stern  lines  of  the  grim  soldier's  face 
relaxed,  and  more  than  once  a  smile  stole  into  his  eyes  and 
stirred  the  corners  of  his  grizzled  moustache. 

The  letter  was  scrawled  in  a  large  childish  hand.  It 
ran  : 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA   CLAUS.  77 

"  My  Dearest  Grandpapa  :  I  want  to  see  you  very  much.  I  send 
you  a  Christmas  gift.      I  made  it  myself.     I  hope  to  get  a  whole  lot  of  dolls 

and  other  presents.      I  love  you.     I  send  you  all  these  kisses 

, You  must  kiss  them. 

"  Your  loving  little  granddaughter, 

"Lily." 

When  he  had  finished  reading  the  letter  the  old  veteran 
gravely  lifted  it  to  his  lips  and  pressed  a  kiss  on  each  of  the 
little  spaces  so  carefully  drawn  by  the  childish  hand. 

When  he  had  done  he  took  out  his  handkerchief  and 
blew  his  nose  violently  as  he  walked  up  and  down  the  room. 
He  even  muttered  something  about  the  fire  smoking;  Then 
he  sat  down  once  more  at  his  table,  and  placing  the  little 
letter  before  him,  began  to  write.  As  he  wrote,  the  fire 
smoked  more  than  ever,  and  the  sounds  of  revelry  outside 
reached  him  in  a  perfect  uproar;  but  he  no  longer  frowned, 
and  when  the  strains  of  "  Dixie "  came  in  at  the  window, 
sung  in  a  clear,  rich,  mellow  solo,  he  sat  back  in  his  chair 
and  listened : 

"  I  wish  I  were  in  Dixie,  away,  away  ; 
In  Dixie's  land  I'll  take  my  stand, 
To  live  and  die  for  Dixie  land, 
Away,  away,  away  down  South  in  Dixie  !  " 

sang  the  beautiful  voice,  full  and  sonorous. 

When  the  song  ended,  there  was  an  outburst  of  applause, 
and  shouts  apparently  demanding  some  other  song,  which  was 
refused,  for  the  noise  grew  to  a  tumult.      The   General  rose 


1 8  A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLA  US. 


and    walked  to  the  window.      Suddenly  the   uproar   hushed, 
for  the  voice  began  again,  but  this  time  it  was  a  hymn  : 

"  While  shepherds  watched  their  flocks  by  night, 
All  seated  on  the  ground, 
The  angel  of  the  Lord  came  down, 
And  glory  shone  around." 

Verse  after  verse  was  sung,  the  men  pouring  out  of  their 
tents  and  huts  to  listen  to  the  music. 

"All  glory  be  to  God  on  high, 
And  to  the  earth  be  peace  ; 
Good  will  henceforth  from  Heaven  to  men 
Begin  and  never  cease  !  " 

sano-  the  singer  to  the  end.  When  the  strain  died  away 
there  was  dead  silence. 

The  General  finished  his  letter  and  sealed  it.  Carefully 
folding  up  the  little  one  which  lay  before  him,  he  replaced  it 
in  his  pocket,  and  going  to  the  door,  summoned  the  orderly 
who  was  just  without. 

"Mail  that  at  once,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  By  the  way,"  as  the  soldier  turned  to  leave,  "who  was 
that  singing  out  there  just  now?  I  mean  that  last  one,  who 
sang  '  Dixie,'  and  the  hymn." 

"Only  a  peddler,  sir,  I  believe." 

The  General's  eyes  fixed  themselves  on  the  soldier. 

"Where  did  he  come  from  ?" 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLAUS.  19 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.      Some  of  the  boys  had  him  singing." 

"  Tell  Major  Dayle  to  come  here  immediately,"  said  the 
General,  frowning. 

In  a  moment  the  officer  summoned  entered. 

He  appeared  somewhat  embarrassed. 

"  Who  was  this  peddler?"  asked  the  commander,  sternly. 

•'  I — I  don't  know — "  began  the  other. 

"You  don't  know  !     Where  did  he  come  from  ?" 

"  From  Colonel  Watchly's  camp  directly,"  said  he, 
relieved  to  shift  a  part  of  the  responsibility. 

"  How  was  he  dressed  ?  " 

"  In  citizen's  clothes." 

"What  did  he  have?" 

"  A  few  toys  and  trinkets." 

"What  was  his  name?" 

"  I  did  not  hear  it." 

"  And  you  let  him  go  !  "     The  General  stamped  his  foot. 

"Yes,  sir  ;   I  don't  think — "  he  beean. 

"  No,  I  know  you  don't,"  said  the  General.  "  He  was  a 
spy.      Where  has  he  gone  ?  " 

"  I  —  I  don't  know.      He  cannot  have  gone  far." 

"  Report  yourself  under  arrest,"  said  the  commander, 
sternly. 

Walking  to  the  door,  he  said  to  the  sentinel : 

"  Call  the  corporal,  and  tell  him  to  request  Captain 
Albert  to  come  here  immediately." 

In  a  few  hours  the  party  sent  out  reported  that  they  had 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLAUS. 


traced  the  spy  to  a  place  just  over  the  creek,  where  he  was 
believed  to  be  harbored. 

"  Take  a  detail  and  arrest  him,  or  burn  the  house,"  or- 
dered the  General,  angrily.  "  It  is  a  perfect  nest  of  treason," 
he  said  to  himself  as  he  walked  up  and  down,  as  though  in 
justification  of  his  savage  order. 

"  Or  wait,"  he  called  to  the  captain,  who  was  just  withdraw- 
ing. "  I  will  go  there  myself,  and  take  it  for  my  headquarters. 
It  is  a  better  place  than  this.  I  cannot  stand  this  smoke  any 
longer.     That  will  break  up  their  treasonable  work." 


VI. 


ALL  that  day  the  tongues  of  the  little  ones  at  Holly  Hill 
had  been  chattering  unceasingly  of  the  expected  visit 
of  Santa  Claus  that  night.  Mrs.  Stafford  had  tried  to 
explain  to  Charlie  and  Evelyn  that  it  would  be  impossible  for 
him  to  bring  them  their  presents  this  year ;  but  she  was  met 
with  the  undeniable  and  unanswerable  statement  that  their 
father  had  promised  them.  Before  going  to  bed  they  had 
hung  their  stockings  on  the  mantelpiece  right  in  front  of  the 
chimney,  so  that  Santa  Claus  would  be  sure  to  see  them. 

The  mother  had  broken  down  over  Evelyn's  prayer,  "  not 
to  forget  my  papa,  and  not  to  forget  my  dolly,"  and  her  tears 
fell  silently  after  the  little  ones  were  asleep,  as  she  put 
the  finishing  touches  to  the  tiny  gray  uniform  for  Charlie. 
She  was  thinking  not  only  of  the  children's  disappointment, 
but  of  the  absence  of  him  on  whose  promise  they  had  so 
securely  relied.  He  had  been  away  now  for  a  year,  and 
she  had  had  no  word  of  him  for  many  weeks.  Where 
was  he?  Was  he  dead  or  alive?  Mrs.  Stafford  sank  on 
her  knees   by  the  bedside. 

"  O  God,  give  me  faith  like  this  little  child  !  "  she  prayed 
again  and  again.  She  was  startled  by  hearing  a  step  on  the 
front  portico  and  a  knock  at  the  door.      Bob,  who  was  work- 


A  CAPTURED   SANTA    CLA  US. 


ing  in  front  of  che  hall  fire,  went  to  the  door.  His  mother 
heard  him  answer  doubtfully  some  question.  She  opened 
the  door  and  went  out.  A  stranger  with  a  large  bundle  or 
pack  stood  on  the  threshold.  His  hat,  which  was  still  on 
his  head,  was  pulled  down  over  his  eyes,  and  he  wore  a 
beard. 

"  An',  leddy,  wad  ye  bay  so  koind  as  to  shelter  a  poor 
sthranger  for  a  noight  at  this  blissid  toim  of  pace  and  good- 
will ?  "  he  said,  in  a  strong  Irish  brogue. 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Stafford  with  her  eyes  fixed  on 
him.  She  moved  slowly  up  to  him.  Then,  by  an  instinct, 
quickly  lifting  her  hand,  she  pushed  his  hat  back  from  his 
eyes.      Her  husband  clasped  her  in  his  arms. 

"  My  darling  !  " 

When  the  pack  was  opened,  such  a  treasure-house  of  toys 
and  things  was  displayed  as  surely  never  greeted  any  other 
eyes.  The  smaller  children,  including  Ran,  were  not  awaked, 
at  their  father's  request,  though  Mrs.  Stafford  wished  to  wake 
them  to  see  him  ;  but  Bob  was  let  into  the  secrets,  except 
that  he  was  not  permitted  to  see  a  small  package  which 
bore  his  name.  Mrs.  Stafford  and  the  Colonel  were  like  two 
children  themselves  as  they  "tipped"  about  stuffing  the  long 
stockings  with  candy  and  toys  of  all  kinds.  The  beautiful 
doll  with  flaxen  hair,  all  arrayed  in  silk  and  lace,  was  seated, 
last  of  all,  securely  on  top  of  Evelyn's  stocking,  with  her  ward- 
robe just  below  her,  where  she  would  greet  her  young  mistress 
when  she  should  first  open  her  eyes,  and  Charlie's  little  blue 


A    CAPTURED    SANTA    CLA  US.  23 

uniform  was  pinned  beside  the  gray  one  his  mother  had  made, 
with  his  sword  buckled  around  the  waist. 

Bob  was  at  last  dismissed  to  his  room,  and  the  Colonel 
and  Mrs.  Stafford  settled  themselves  before  the  fire,  hand  in 
hand,  to  talk  over  all  the  past.  They  had  hardly  started, 
when  Bob  rushed  down  the  stairs  and  dashed  into  their 
room. 

"  Papa  !  papa  !  the  yard's  full  of  Yankees  !  " 

Both  the  Colonel  and   Mrs.   Stafford   sprang  to  their  feet. 

"Through  the  back  door!"  cried  Mrs.  Stafford,  seizins: 
her  husband. 

"  He  cannot  get  out  that  way — they  are  everywhere  ;  I 
saw  them  from  my  window,"  gasped  Bob,  just  as  the  sound 
of  trampling  without  became  audible. 

"  Oh!  what  will  you  do?  Those  clothes  !  If  they  catch 
you  in  those  clothes  !  "  began  Mrs.  Stafford,  and  then  stopped, 
her  face  growing  ashy  pale.  Bob  also  turned  even  whiter 
than  he  had  been  before.  He  remembered  the  young  man 
who  was  found  in  citizen's  clothes  in  the  autumn,  and  knew 
his  dreadful  fate.  He  burst  out  crying.  "Oh,  papa!  will 
they  hang  you  ?  "  he  sobbed. 

"  I  hope  not,  my  son,"  said  the  Colonel,  gravel}'.  "  Cer- 
tainly not,  if  I  can  prevent  it."  A  gleam  of  amusement  stole 
into  his  eyes.      "  It's  an  awkward  fix,  certainly,"  he  added. 

"You  must  conceal  yourself,"  cried  Mrs.  Stafford,  as  a 
number  of  footsteps  sounded  on  the  porch,  and  a  thundering 
knock    shook    the    door.       "  Come    here."       She  pulled  him 


24  A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLA  US. 

almost  by  main  force  into  a  closet  or  entry,  and  locked  the 
door,  just  as  the  knocking  was  renewed.  As  the  door  was 
apparently  about  to  be  broken  down,  she  went  out  into  the 
hall.  Her  face  was  deadly  white,  and  her  lips  were  moving 
in  prayer. 

"Who's  there?"  she  called,  tremblingly,  trying  to  gain 
time. 

"  Open  the  door  immediately,  or  it  will  be  broken  down," 
replied  a  stern  voice. 

She  turned  the  great  iron  key  in  the  heavy  old  brass  lock, 
and  a  dozen  men  rushed  into  the  hall.  They  all  waited  for 
one,  a  tall  elderly  man  in  a  general's  fatigue  uniform,  and 
with  a  stern  face  and  a  grizzled  beard.      He  addressed  her. 

"  Madam,  I  have  come  to  take  possession  of  this  house  as 
my  headquarters." 

Mrs.  Stafford  bowed,  unable  to  speak.  She  was  sensible 
of  a  feeling  of  relief  ;  there  was  a  gleam  of  hope.  If  they  did 
not  know  of  her  husband's  presence—  But  the  next  word 
destroyed  it. 

"  We  have  not  interfered  with  you  up  to  the  present  time, 
but  you  have  been  harboring  a  spy  here,  and  he  is  here 
now." 

"  There  is  no  spy  here,  and  has  never  been,"  said  Mrs. 
Stafford,  with  dignity  ;  "  but  if  there  were,  you  should  not 
know  it  from  me."  She  spoke  with  much  spirit.  "  It  is  not 
the  custom  of  our  people  to  deliver  up  those  who  have  sought 
their  protection." 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLAUS.  25 

The  officer  removed  his  hat.  His  keen  eye  was  fixed  on 
her  white  face.  "  We  shall  search  the  premises,"  he  said 
sternly,  but  more  respectfully  than  he  had  yet  spoken. 
"  Major,  have  the  house  thoroughly  searched." 

The  men  went  striding  off,  opening  doors  and  looking 
through  the  rooms.  The  General  took  a  turn  up  and  down 
the  hall.      He  walked  up  to  a  door. 

"  That  is  my  chamber,"  said  Mrs.  Stafford,  quickly. 

The  officer  fell  back.      "  It  must  be  searched,"  he  said. 

"  My  little  children  are  asleep  in  there,"  said  Mrs.  Staf- 
ford, her  face  quite  white. 

"  It  must  be  searched,"  repeated  the  General.  "  Either 
they  must  do  it,  or  I.      You  can  take  your  choice." 

Mrs.  Stafford  made  a  gesture  of  assent.  He  opened  the 
door  and  stepped  across  the  threshold.  There  he  stopped. 
His  eye  took  in  the  scene.  Charlie  was  lying  in  the  little 
trundle-bed  in  the  corner,  calm  and  peaceful,  and  by  his  side 
was  Evelyn,  her  little  face  looking  like  a  flower  lying  in  the 
tangle  of  golden  hair  which  fell  over  her  pillow.  The  noise 
disturbed  her  slightly,  for  she  smiled  suddenly,  and  muttered 
something  about  "  Santa  Tlaus"  and  a  "  dolly."  The  officer's 
gaze  swept  the  room,  and  fell  on  the  overcrowded  stockings 
hanging  from  the  mantel.  He  advanced  to  the  fireplace  and 
examined  the  doll  and  trousers  closely.  With  a  curious  ex- 
pression on  his  face,  he  turned  and  walked  out  of  the  room, 
closing  the  door  softly  behind  him. 

"  Major,"  he  said  to  the  officer  in  charge  of  the  searching 


26  A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLA  US. 

party,  who  descended  the  steps  just  then,  "  take  the  men  back 
to  camp,  except  the  sentinels.  There  is  no  spy  here."  In  a 
moment  Mrs.  Stafford  came  out  of  her  chamber.  The  old 
officer  was  walking  up  and  down  in  deep  thought.  Suddenly 
he  turned  to  her  :  "  Madam,  be  so  kind  as  to  £o  and  tell  Col- 
onel  Stafford  that  General  Denby  desires  him  to  surrender 
himself."  Mrs.  Stafford  was  struck  dumb.  She  was  unable 
to  move  or  to  articulate.  "  I  shall  wait  for  him,"  said  the 
General,  quietly,  throwing  himself  into  an  arm-chair,  and 
looking  steadily  into  the  fire. 


VII. 


AS  his  father  concealed  himself,  Bob  had  left  the  cham- 
ber. He  was  in  a  perfect  agony  of  mind.  He  knew 
that  his  father  could  not  escape,  and  if  he  were  found 
dressed  in  citizen's  clothes  he  felt  that  he  could  have  but  one 
fate.  All  sorts  of  schemes  entered  his  boy's  head  to  save 
him.  Suddenly  he  thought  of  the  small  group  of  prisoners 
he  had  seen  pass  by  about  dark.  He  would  save  him  !  Put- 
ting on  his  hat,  he  opened  the  front  door  and  walked  out. 
A  sentinel  accosted  him  surlily  to  know  where  he  was  going. 
Bob  invited  him  in  to  eret  warm,  and  soon  had  him  eneaeed 
in  conversation. 

"  What  do  you  do  with  your  prisoners  when  you  catch 
them?"  inquired  Bob. 

"  Send  some  on  to  prison — and  hang  some." 

"  I  mean  when  you  first  catch  them." 

"  Oh,  they  stay  in  camp.  We  don't  treat  'em  bad,  with- 
out they  be  spies.  There's  a  batch  at  camp  now,  got  in  this 
evening — sort  o'  Christmas  gift."  The  soldier  laughed  as 
he  stamped  his  feet  to  keep  warm. 

"Where's  your  camp  ?  "  Bob  asked. 

"  About  a  mile  from  here,  right  on  the  road,  or  rather 
right  on  the  hill  at  the  edge  of  the  pines  'yond  the  crick." 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLAUS. 


The  boy  left  his  companion,  and  sauntered  in  and  out 
among  the  other  men  in  the  yard.  Presently  he  moved  on 
to  the  edge  of  the  lawn  beyond  them.  No  one  took  further 
notice  of  him.  In  a  second  he  had  slipped  through  the  gate, 
and  was  flying  across  the  field.  He  knew  every  foot  of 
ground  as  well  as  a  hare,  for  he  had  been  hunting  and  setting 
traps  over  it  since  he  was  as  big  as  little  Charlie.  He  had 
to  make  a  detour  at  the  creek  to  avoid  the  picket,  and  the 
dense  briers  were  very  bad  and  painful.  However,  he  worked 
his  way  through,  though  his  face  was  severely  scratched. 
Into  the  creek  he  plunged.  "  Outch  !  "  He  had  stepped 
into  a  hole,  and  the  water  was  as  cold  as  ice.  However,  he 
was  through,  and  at  the  top  of  the  hill  he  could  see  the  glow 
of  the  camp  fires  lighting  up  the  sky. 

He  crept  cautiously  up,  and  saw  the  dark  forms  of  the 
sentinels  pacing  backward  and  forward  wrapped  in  their  over- 
coats, now  lit  up  by  the  fire,  then  growing  black  against  its 
blazing  embers,  then  lit  up  again,  and  passing  away  into  the 
shadow.  How  could  he  ever  get  by  them?  His  heart 
began  to  beat  and  his  teeth  to  chatter,  but  he  walked  boldly 
up. 

"  Halt  !  who  goes  there  ?"  cried  the  sentry,  bringing  his 
gun  down  and  advancing  on  him. 

Bob  kept  on,  and  the  sentinel,  finding  that  it  Was  only  a 
boy,  looked  rather  sheepish. 

"Don't  let  him  capture  you,  Jim,"  called  one  of  them; 
"  Call  the  Corporal  of  the  Guard,"  another  ;  "  Order  up  the 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLAUS.  29 

reserves,"  a  third  ;  and  so  on.  Bob  had  to  undergo  some- 
thing of  an  examination. 

"  I  know  the  little  Johnny,"  said  one  of  them. 

They  made  him  draw  up  to  the  fire,  and  made  quite  a  fuss 
over  him.  Bob  had  his  wits  about  him  and  soon  learned  that 
a  batch  of  prisoners  were  at  a  fire  a  hundred  yards  further 
back.  He  therefore  worked  his  way  over  there,  although  he 
was  advised  to  stay  where  he  was  and  get  dry,  and  had  many 
offers  of  a  bunk  from  his  new  friends,  some  of  whom  followed 

« 

him  over  to  where  the  prisoners  were. 

Most  of  them  were  quartered  for  the  night  in  a  hut  before 
which  a  guard  was  stationed.  One  or  two,  however,  sat 
around  the  camp-fire,  chatting1  with  their  euards.  Amono- 
them  was  a  major  in  full  uniform.  Bob  singled  him  out  ;  he 
was  just  about  his  father's  size. 

He  was  instantly  the  centre  of  attraction.  Again  he  told 
them  he  was  from  Holly  Hill  ;  again  he  was  recognized  by 
one  of  the  men. 

"  Run  away  to  join  the  army?"  asked  one. 

"  No,"  said  Bob,  his  eyes  flashing  at  the  suggestion. 

"Lost?" 

"No." 

"  Mother  whipped  you  ?" 

"  No." 

As  soon  as  their  curiosity  had  somewhat  subsided,  Bob, 
who  had  hardly  been  able  to  contain  himself,  said  to  the 
Confederate  major  in  a  low  undertone  : 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLA  US. 


"  My  father,  Colonel  Stafford,  is  at  home,  concealed,  and 
the  Yankees  have  taken  possession  of  the  house." 

"Well?"  said  the  major,  looking  down  at  him  as  if 
casually. 

"  He  cannot  escape,  and  he  has  on  citizen's  clothes, 
and — "  Bob's  voice  choked  suddenly  as  he  gazed  at  the 
major's  uniform. 

"Well  ? "  The  prisoner  for  a  second  looked  sharply  down 
at  the  boy's  earnest  face.  Then  he  put  his  hand  under  his 
chin,  and  lifting  it,  looked  into  his  eyes.  Bob  shivered  and 
a  sob  escaped  him. 

The  major  placed  his  hand  firmly  on  his  knee.  "  Why, 
you  are  wringing  wet,"  he  said,  aloud.  "  I  wonder  you  are 
not  frozen  to  death."  He  rose  and  stripped  off  his  coat. 
"  Here,  get  into  this  ;"  and  before  the  boy  knew  it  the  major 
had  bundled  him  into  his  coat,  and  rolled  up  the  sleeves  so 
that  Bob  could  use  his  hands.  The  action  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  rest  of  the  group,  and  several  of  the  Yankees 
offered  to  take  the  boy  and  give  him  dry  clothes. 

"  No,  sir,"  laughed  the  major;  "this  boy  is  a  rebel.  Do 
you  think  he  will  wear  one  of  your  Yankee  suits  ?  He's  a 
little  major,  and  I'm  going  to  give  him  a  major's  uniform." 

In  a  minute  he  had  stripped  off  his  trousers,  and  was 
helping  Bob  into  them,  standing  himself  in  his  underclothes 
in  the  icy  air.  The  legs  were  three  times  too  long  for  the 
boy,  and  the  waist  came  up  to  his  armpits. 

"  Now  go  home  to  your  mother,"  said  the  major,  laughing 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLAUS. 


at  his  appearance;  "and  some  of  you  fellows  get  me  some 
clothes  or  a  blanket.  I'll  wear  your  Yankee  uniform  out  of 
sheer  necessity." 

Bob  trotted  around,  keeping  as  far  away  from  the  light 
of  the  camp-fires  as  possible.  He  soon  found  himself  unob- 
served, and  reached  the  shadow  of  a  line  of  huts,  and  keeping 
well  in  it,  he  came  to  the  edge  of  the  camp.  He  watched  his 
opportunity,  and  when  the  sentry's  back  was  turned  slipped 
out  into  the  darkness.  In  an  instant  he  was  flying  down  the 
hill.  The  heavy  clothes  impeded  him,  and  he  stopped  only 
long  enough  to  snatch  them  off  and  roll  them  into  a  bundle, 
and  sped  on  his  way  again.  He  struck  the  main  road,  and 
was  running  down  the  hill  as  fast  as  his  legs  could  carry  him, 
when  he  suddenly  found  himself  almost  on  a  group  of  dark 
objects  who  were  standing  in  the  road  just  in  front  of  him. 
One  of  them  moved.  It  was  the  picket.  Bob  suddenly 
stopped.      His  heart  was  in  his  throat. 

"  Who  goes  there  ?'"  said  a  stern  voice.  Bob's  heart  beat 
as  if  it  would   spring  out  of  his   body. 

"  Come  in  ;   we  have  you,"  said  the  man,  advancing. 

Bob  sprang  across  the  ditch  beside  the  road,  and  putting 
his  hand  on  the  top  rail  of  the  fence,  flung  himself  over  it, 
bundle  and  all,  flat  on  the  other  side,  just  as  a  blaze  of  light 
burst  from  the  picket,  and  the  report  of  a  carbine  startled  the 
silent  night.  The  bullet  grazed  the  boy's  arm,  and  crashed 
through  the  rail.  In  a  second  Bob  was  on  his  feet.  The 
picket  was  almost  on  him.      Seizing  his  bundle,  he  dived   into 


32  A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLA  US. 

the  thicket  as  a  half-dozen  shots  were  sent  ringing  after  him, 
the  bullets  hissing  and  whistling  over  his  head.  Several  men 
dashed  into  the  woods  after  him  in  hot  pursuit,  and  a  couple 
more  galloped  up  the  road  to  intercept  him ;  but  Bob's  feet 
were  winged,  and  he  slipped  through  briers  and  brush  like  a 
scared  hare.  They  scratched  his  face  and  threw  him  down, 
but  he  was  up  again.  Now  and  then  a  shot  crashed  behind 
him,  but  he  did  not  care  for  that ;  he  thought  only  of  being 
caught. 

A  few  hundred  yards  up,  he  plunged  into  the  stream,  and 
wading  across,  was  soon  safe  from  his  pursuers.  Breathless, 
he  climbed  the  hill,  made  his  way  through  the  woods,  and 
emerged  into  the  open  fields.  Across  these  he  sped  like  a 
deer.  He  had  almost  given  out.  What  if  they  should  have 
caught  his  father,  and  he  should  be  too  late !  A  sob  escaped 
him  at  the  bare  thought,  and  he  broke  again  into  a  run, 
wiping  off  with  his  sleeve  the  tears  that  would  come.  The 
wind  cut  him  like  a  knife,  but  he  did  not  mind  that. 

As  he  neared  the  house  he  feared  that  he  might  be  inter- 
cepted again  and  the  clothes  taken  from  him,  so  he  stopped 
for  a  moment,  and  slipped  them  on  once  more,  rolling  up  the 
sleeves  and  legs  as  well  as  he  could.  He  crossed  the  yard 
undisturbed.  He  went  around  to  the  same  door  by  which 
he  had  come  out,  for  he  thought  this  his  best  chance.  The 
same  sentinel  was  there,  walking  up  and  down,  blowing  his 
cold  hands.  Had  his  father  been  arrested  ?  Bob's  teeth 
chattered,  but  it  was  with  suppressed  excitement. 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLAUS.  53 

"  Pretty  cold,"  said  the  sentry. 

"Ye — es,"  gasped  Bob. 

"Your  mother's  been  out  here,  looking  for  you,  I  guess," 
said  the  soldier,  with  much  friendliness. 

"  I  rec — reckon  so,"  panted  Bob,  moving  toward  the  door. 
Did  that  mean  that  his  father  was  caught?  He  opened  the 
door,  and  slipped  quietly  into  the  corridor. 

General  Denby  still  sat  silent  before  the  hall  fire.  Bob 
listened  at  the  chamber  door.  His  mother  was  weeping  ;  his 
father  stood  calm  and  resolute  before  the  fire.  He  had 
determined  to  give  himself  up. 

"If  you  only  did  not  have  on  those  clothes!"  sobbed 
Mrs.  Stafford.  "If  I  only  had  not  cut  up  the  old  uniform 
for  the  children  !  " 

"  Mother  !  mother  !  I  have  one  !  "  gasped  Bob,  bursting 
into  the  room  and  tearing  off  the  unknown   major's  uniform. 


VIII. 

TEN  minutes  later  Colonel   Stafford,  with  a  steady  step 
and   a  proud   carriage,  and  with  his  hand   resting  on 
Bob's  shoulder,   walked   out    into   the   hall.      He   was 
dressed  in  the  uniform  of  a  Confederate  major,  which  fitted 
admirably  his  tall,  erect  figure. 

"General  Denby,  I  believe,"  he  said,  as  the  Union  officer 
rose  and  faced  him.  "  We  have  met  before  under  somewhat 
different  circumstances,"  he  said,  with  a  bow,  "for  I  now  find 
myself  your  prisoner." 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  request  your  parole,"  said  the 
General,  with  great  politeness,  "  and  to  express  the  hope  that 
1  may  be  able  in  some  way  to  return  the  courtesy  which  I 
formerly  received  at  your  hands."  He  extended  his  hand 
and  Colonel  Stafford  took  it. 

"You  have  my  parole,"  said  he. 

"  I  was  not  aware,"  said  the  General,  with  a  bow 
toward  Mrs.  Stafford,  "until  I  entered  the  room  where  your 
children  were  sleeping,  that  I  had  the  honor  of  your  hus- 
band's acquaintance.  I  will  now  take  my  leave  and  return  to 
camp,  that  I  may  not  by  my  presence  interfere  with  the  joy 
of  this  season." 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLAUS.  35 

"  I  desire  to  introduce  to  you  my  son,"  said  Colonel 
Stafford,  proudly  presenting  Bob.      "  He  is  a  hero." 

The  General  bowed  as  he  shook  hands  with  him.  Per- 
haps he  had  some  suspicion  how  true  a  hero  he  was,  for  he 
rested  his  hand  kindly  on  the  boy's  head,  but  he  said 
nothing-. 

Both  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Stafford  invited  the  old  soldier 
to  spend  the  night  there,  but  he  declined.  He,  however, 
accepted  an  invitation  to  dine  with  them  next  day. 

Before  leaving,  he  requested  permission  to  take  one  more 
look  at  the  sleeping  children.  Over  Evelyn  he  bent  silently. 
Suddenly  stooping,  he  kissed  her  little  pink  cheek,  and  with 
a  scarcely  audible  "  Good-night,"  passed  out  of  the  room  and 
left  the  house. 

The  next  morning,  by  light,  there  was  great  rejoicing. 
Charlie  and  Evelyn  were  up  betimes,  and  were  laughing  and 
chattering  over  their  presents  like  two  little  magpies. 

"  Here's  my  sword  and  here's  my  breeches,"  cried  Charlie, 
"  two  pair  ;  but  I'm  goin'  to  put  on  my  gray  ones.  I  ain't 
goin'  to  wear  a  blue  uniform." 

"  Here's  my  dolly  !"  screamed  Evelyn,  in  an  ecstasy  over 
her  beautiful  present.  And  presently  Bob  and  Ran  burst  in, 
their  eyes  fairly  dancing. 

"  Christmas  gift  !  It's  a  real  one — real  Q-old  !  "  cried  Bob, 
holding  up  a  small  gold  watch,  whilst  Ran  was  shouting  over 
a  silver  one  of  the  same  size. 

That  evening,  after  dinner,  General  Denby  was  sitting  by 


36  A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLAUS. 


the  fire  in  the  Holly  Hill  parlor,  with  Evelyn  nestled  in  his 
lap,  her  dolly  clasped  close  to  her  bosom,  and  in  the  absence 
of  Colonel  Stafford,  told  Mrs.  Stafford  the  story  of  the  open- 
ing of  the  package  by  the  camp-fire.  The  tears  welled  up 
into  Mrs.  Stafford's  eyes  and  ran  down  her  cheeks. 

Charlie  suddenly  entered,  in  all  the  majesty  of  his  new 
breeches,  and  sword  buckled  on  hip.  He  saw  his  mother's 
tears.  His  little  face  flushed.  In  a  second  his  sword  was 
out,  and  he  struck  a  hostile  attitude. 

"  You  sha'n't  make  my  mamma  cry  !  "  he  shouted. 

"Charlie!  Charlie!"  cried  Mrs.  Stafford,  hastening  to 
stop  him. 

"  My  papa  said  I  was  not  to  let  any  one  make  you  cry," 
insisted  the  boy,  stepping  before  his  mother,  and  still  keeping 
his  angry  eyes  on  the  General. 

"  Oh,  Charlie  !  "  Mrs.  Stafford  took  hold  of  him.  "  I  am 
ashamed  of  you  ! — to  be  so  rude  !  " 

"  Let  him  alone,  madam,"  said  the  General.  "  It  is  not 
rudeness  ;  it  is  spirit — the  spirit  of  our  race.  He  has  the 
soldier's  blood,  and  some  day  he  will  be  a  soldier  himself, 
and  a  brave  one.  I  shall  count  on  him  for  the  Union,"  he 
said,  with  a  smile. 

Mrs.  Stafford  shook  her  head. 

A  few  days  later,  Colonel  Stafford,  in  accordance  with 
an  understanding,  came  over  to  General  Denby's  camp,  and 
reported  to  be  sent  on  to  Washington  as  a  prisoner  of  war. 
The  General  was  absent  on   the  lines  at  the  time,   but  was 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLA  US.  37 

expected  soon,  and  the  Colonel  waited  for  him  at  his  head- 
quarters. There  had  been  many  tears  shed  when  his  wife 
bade  him  good-by. 

About  an  hour  after  the  Colonel  arrived,  the  General  and 
his  staff  were  riding  back  to  camp  along  the  road  which  ran 
by  the  Holly  Hill  gate  Just  before  they  reached  it,  two 
little  figures  came  out  of  the  grate  and  started  clown  the  road. 
One  was  a  boy  of  five,  who  carried  a  toy  sword,  drawn,  in 
one  hand,  whilst  with  the  other  he  led  his  companion,  a  little 
girl  of  three,  who  clasped  a  large  yellowdiaired  doll  to  her 
breast. 

The  soldiers  cantered  forward  and  overtook  them. 

"Where  are  you  going,  my  little  people?"  inquired  the 
General,  gazing  down  at  them  affectionately. 

"  I'm  goin'  to  get  my  papa,"  said  the  tiny  swordsman 
firmly,  turning  a  sturdy  and  determined  little  face  up  to  him. 
"  My  mamma's  cryin',  an'  I'm  goin'  to  take  my  papa  home. 
I  ain'  ooin'  to  let  the  Yankees  have  him." 

The  officers  all  broke  into  a  murmur  of  mingled  admira- 
tion and  amusement. 

"  No,  we  ain'  goin'  let  the  Yankees  have  our  papa," 
chimed  in  Evelyn,  pushing  her  tangled  hair  out  of  her  eyes, 
and  keeping  fast  hold  of  Charlie's  hand  for  fear  of  the  horses 
around  her. 

The  General  dismounted. 

"  How  are  you  going  to  help,  my  little  Semiramis  ?"  he 
asked,  stooping  over  her  with  smiling  eyes. 


3» 


A    CAPTURED   SANTA    CLAUS. 


"I'm  goin'  to  give  my  dolly  if  they  will  give  me  my 
papa,"  she&  said,  gravely,  as  if  she  understood  the  equality  of 

the  exchange. 

"  Suppose  you  give  a  kiss  instead?"  There  was  a  sec- 
ond of  hesitation,  and  then  she  put  up  her  little  face,  and 
the  old  General  dropped  on  one  knee  in  the  road  and  lifted 
her  in  his  arms,  doll  and  all. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said  to  his  staff,  "you  behold  the  future 

defenders  of  the  Union." 

The  little  ones  were  coaxed  home,  and  that  afternoon,  as 
Colonel  Stafford  was  expecting  to  leave  the  camp  for  Wash- 
ington with  a  lot  of  prisoners,  a  despatch  was  brought  in  to 
General  Denby,  who  read  it. 

"  Colonel,"  he  said,  addressing  him,  "  1  think  I  shall  have 
to  continue  your    parole    a    few  days    longer.      I    have    just 
received  information   that,  by  a  special  cartel  which   I   have 
arranged,  you  are  to  be  exchanged  for  Colonel   McDowell  as 
soon  as  he  can  reach  the  lines  at  this  point  from  Richmond  ; 
and   meantime,   as  we  have  but  indifferent  accommodations 
here,  I  shall  have  to  request  you   to  consider   Holly  Hill  as 
your  place  of  confinement.      Will  you  be  so  kind  as  to   con- 
vey my  respects  to   Mrs.  Stafford,  and  to  your  young  hero 
Bob   and   make   good  my  word  to   those  two   little   commis- 
sioners of  exchange,  to  whom   I   feel  somewhat  committed  ? 
1  wish  you  a  Merry  Christmas  and  a  Happy  New  Year." 


KITTYKIN,  AND  THE  PART  SHE  PLAYED 
IN  THE  WAR. 


i. 


KITTYKIN  played  a  part  in  the  war  which  has  never 
been  recorded.  Her  name  does  not  appear  in  the 
list  of  any  battle  ;  nor  is  she  mentioned  in  any  history 
as  having  saved  a  life,  or  as  having  done  anything  remark- 
able one  way  or  the  other.  Yet,  in  fact,  she  played  a  most 
important  part  :  she  prevented  a  battle  which  was  just  going 
to  begin,  and  brought  about  a  truce  between  the  skirmish  lines 
of  the  Union  and  the  Confederate  troops  near  her  home 
which  lasted  several  weeks,  and  probably  saved  many  lives. 

There  never  was  a  kitten  more  highly  prized  than  Kitty- 
kin,  for  Evelyn  had  long  wanted  a  kitten,  and  the  way  she 
found  her  was  so  delightfully  unexpected. 

It  was  during  the  war,  when  everything  was  very  scarce 
down  in  the  South  where  Evelyn  lived.  "  We  don't  have 
any  coffee,  or  any  kittens,  or  anything,"  Evelyn  said  one  clay 
to  some  soldiers  who  had  come  to  her  home  from  their  camp, 
which  was  a  mile  or  so  away.       You    would    have    thought 


42  KITTYKIN,    AND  THE  PART 

from  the  way  she  put  them  together  that  kittens,  like  coffee, 
were  something  to  have  on  the  table  ;  but  she  had  heard  her 
mamma  wishing  for  coffee  at  breakfast  that  morning,  and  she 
herself  had  long:  been  wanting  a  kitten.  Indeed,  she  used  to 
ask  for  one  in  her  prayers. 

Evelyn  had  no  fancy  for  anything  that,  in  her  own  words, 
"was  not  live."  A  thing  that  had  life  was  of  more  value  in 
her  eyes  than  all  the  toys  that  were  ever  given  her.  A 
young  bird  which,  too  fat  to  fly,  had  fallen  from  the  nest,  or 
a  brokendegged  chicken,  which  was  too  lame  to  keep  up  with 
its  mother,  had  her  tenderest  care  ;  a  little  mouse  slipping 
along  the  wainscot  or  playing  on  the  carpet  excited  her  live- 
liest interest  ;  but  a  kitten,  a  "  real  live  kittykin,"  she  had 
never  possessed,  though  for  a  long  time  she  had  set  her 
heart  on  having  one.  One  clay,  however,  she  was  out  walk- 
ing with  her  mammy  in  the  "big  road,"  when  she  met  several 
small  negro  children  coming  along,  and  one  of  them  had  a 
little  bit  of  a  white  kitten  squeezed  up  in  his  arm.  It  looked 
very  scared,  and  every  now  and  then  it  cried  "  Mew, 
mew." 

"  Oh,  mammy,  look  at  that  dear  little  kittykin  !  "  cried 
Evelyn,  running  up  to  the  children  and  stroking  the  little 
mite  tenderly. 

"  What  you  children  gwine  do  wid  dat  little  cat  ?"  asked 
mammy,  severely. 

"We  gwine  loss  it,"  said  the  boy  who  had  it,  promptly. 

"  Oh,  mammy,   don't  let  them  do  that  !     Don't  let  them 


SHE   PLAYED   IN    THE    WAR.  43 


hurt  it !  "  pleaded  Evelyn,  turning  to  her  mammy.  "  It  would 
get  so  hungry." 

A  sudden  thought  struck  her,  and  she  sprang  over  toward 
the  boy,  and  took  the  kitten  from  him,  which  instantly  curled 
up  in  her  arms  just  as  close  to  her  as  it  could  get.  There 
was  no  resisting  her  appeal,  and  a  minute  later  she  was  run- 
ning home  far  ahead  of  her  mammy,  with  the  kitten  hugged 
tight  in  her  arms.  Her  mamma  was  busy  in  the  sitting-room 
when  Evelyn  came  rushing  in. 

"  Oh,  mamma,  see  what  I  have  !  A  dear  little  kittykin  ! 
Can't  I  have  it  ?  They  were  just  going  to  throw  it  away,  and 
lose  it  all  by  itself ;  "  and  she  began  to  jump  up  and  down 
and  rub  the  kitten  against  her  little  pink  cheek,  till  her  mother 
had  to  take  hold  of  her  to  quiet  her  excitement. 

Kittykin  (for  that  was  the  name  she  had  received)  must 
have  misunderstood  the  action,  and  have  supposed  she  was 
going  to  take  her  from  her  young  mistress,  for  she  suddenly 
bunched  herself  up  into  a  little  white  ball,  and  gave  such  a 
spit  at  Evelyn's  mamma  that  the  lady  jumped  back  nearly  a 
yard,  after  which  Kittykin  quietly  curled  herself  up  again  in 
Evelyn's  arm.  The  next  thing  was  to  give  her  some  warm 
milk,  which  she  drank  as  if  she  had  not  had  a  mouthful  all 
day  ;  and  then  she  was  put  to  sleep  in  a  basket  of  wool,  where 
Evelyn  looked  at  her  a  hundred  times  to  see  how  she  was 
coming  on. 

Evelyn  never  doubted  after  that  that  if  she  prayed  for  a 
thing  she  would  get  it  ;  for  she  had  been  praying  all  the  time 


44  KITTYKIN,  AND    THE  PART 

for  a  "  little  white  kitten,"  and  not  only  was  Kittykin  as  white 
as  snow,  but  she  was,  to  use  Evelyn's  words,  "  even  littler  " 
than  she  had  expected.  There  could  not,  to  her  mind,  be 
stronger  proof. 

As  Kittykin  grew  a  little  she  developed  a  temper  entirely 
out  of  proportion  to  her  size  ;  when  she  got  mad,  she  got 
mad  all  over.  If  anything  offended  her  she  would  suddenly 
back  up  into  a  corner,  her  tail  would  get  about  twice  as  large 
as  usual,  and  she  would  spit  like  a  little  fury.  However,  she 
never  fought  her  little  mistress,  and  even  in  her  worst  mo- 
ments she  would  allow  Evelyn  to  take  her  and  lay  her  on  her 
back  in  the  little  cradle  she  had,  or  carry  her  by  the  neck,  or 
the  legs,  or  almost  any  way  except  by  the  tail.  To  pull  her 
tail  was  a  liberty  she  never  would  allow  even  Evelyn  to  take. 
If  she  was  held  by  the  tail  her  little  pink  claws  flew  out  as 
quick  as  a  wink  and  as  sharp  as  needles.  Evelyn  was  very 
kind  to  Kittykin,  however,  and  was  careful  not  to  provoke 
her,  for  she  had  been  told  that  getting  angry  and  kicking  on 
the  floor,  as  she  herself  sometimes  did  when  mammy  wanted 
to  comb  her  curly  hair,  would  make  an  ugly  little  girl,  and  of 
course  it  would  have  the  same  effect  on  a  kitten. 

Fierce,  however,  as  Kittykin  was,  it  soon  appeared  that 
she  was  the  greatest  little  coward  in  the  world.  A  worm  in 
the  walk  or  a  little  beetle  running  across  the  floor  would  set 
her  to  jumping  as  if  she  had  a  fit,  and  the  first  time  she  ever 
saw  a  mouse  she  was  far  more  afraid  of  it  than  it  was  of  her. 
If  it  had  been  a  rat,  I  am  sure  that  she  would  have  died. 


SHE  PLAYED   IN    THE    WAR.  45 


One  day  Evelyn  was  sitting  on  the  floor  in  her  mother's 
chamber  sewing  a  little  blue  bag,  which  she  said  was  her 
work-bag,  when  a  tiny  mouse  ran,  like  a  little  gray  shadow, 
across  the  hearth.  Kittykin  was  at  the  moment  busily  en- 
gaged in  rolling  about  a  ball  of  yar-n  almost  as  white  as  her- 
self, and  the  first  thing  Evelyn  knew  she  gave  a  jump  like  a 
trap-ball,  and  slid  up  the  side  of  the  bureau  like  a  little  shaft 
of  light,  where  she  stood  with  all  four  feet  close  together,  her 
small  back  roached  up  in  an  arch,  her  tail  all  fuzzed  up  over 
it,  and  her  mouth  wide  open  and  spitting  like  a  little  demon. 
She  looked  so  funny  that  Evelyn  dropped  her  sewing,  and 
the  mouse,  frightened  half  out  of  its  little  wits,  took  advan- 
tage of  her  consternation  to  make  a  rush  back  to  its  hole 
under  the  wainscoting,  into  which  it  dived  like  a  little  duck. 
After  holding  her  lofty  position  for  some  time,  Kittykin  let 
her  hairs  fall  and  lowered  her  back,  but  every  now  and  then 
she  would  raise  them  again  at  the  bare  thought  of  the  awful 
animal  which  had  so  terrified  her.  At  length  sne  decided 
that  she  might  go  down  ;  but  how  was  she  to  do  it?  Smooth 
though  the  mahogany  was,  she  had,  under  excitement,  gone 
up  like  a  streak  of  lightning  ;  but  now  when  she  was  cool-she 
was  afraid  to  jump  down.  It  was  so  high  that  it  made  her 
head  swim  ;  so,  after  walking  timidly  around  and  peeping 
over  at  the  floor,  she  began  to  cry  for  some  one  to  take  her 
down,  just  as  Evelyn  would  have  done  under  the  same 
circumstances. 

Evelyn  tried  to  coax  her  down,  but  she  would  not  come  ; 


46  KITTYKIN,  AND    THE  PART 

so  finally  she  had  to  drag  a  chair  up  to  the  bureau  and  get 
up  on  it  to  reach  her. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  fright  she  experienced  when  she  found 
herself  up  so  high  that  caused  Kittykin  to  revenge  herself  on 
the  little  mouse  shortly  afterward,  or  perhaps  it  was  only  her 
cat  instinct  developing  ;  but  it  was  only  a  short  time  after 
this  that  Kittykin  did  an  act  which  grieved  her  little  mistress 
dreadfully.  The  little  mouse  had  lived  under  the  wainscot 
since  long  before  Kittykin  had  come,  and  it  and  Evelyn  were 
on  very  good  terms.  It  would  come  out  and  dash  along  by 
the  wall  to  the  wardrobe,  under  which  it  would  disappear,  and 
after  staying  there  some  time  it  would  hurry  back.  This 
Evelyn  used  to  call  "  paying  visits  ;  "  and  she  often  wondered 
what  mice  talked  about  when  they  got  together  under  the 
wardrobe.  Or  sometimes  it  would  slip  out  and  frisk  around 
on  the  floor — "just  playing,"  as  Evelyn  said.  There  was  a 
perfect  understanding  between  them  :  Evelyn  was  not  to  hurt 
the  mouse  nor  let  mammy  set  a  trap  for  it,  and  the  mouse  was 
not  to  bite  Evelyn's  clothes — but  if  it  had  to  cut  at  all,  was 
to  confine  itself  to  her  mamma's.  After  Kittykin  came,  how- 
ever, the  mouse  appeared  to  be  much  less  sociable  than  for- 
merly ;  and  after  the  occasion  when  it  alarmed  Kittykin  so,  it 
did  not  come  out  again  for  a  long  time.  Evelyn  used  to 
wonder  if  its  mamma  was  keeping  it  in. 

One  day,  however,  Evelyn  was  sewing,  and  Kittykin  was 
lying  by,  when  she  suddenly  seemed  to  get  tired  of  doing 
nothing,  and  began  to  walk  about. 


SHE  PLAYED  IN    THE    WAR.  47 

"  Lie  down,  Kittykin,"  said  her  mistress  ;  but  Kittykin  did 
not  appear  to  hear.  She  just  lowered  her  head,  and  peeped 
under  the  bureau,  with  her  eyes  set  in  a  curious  way.  Pres- 
ently she  stooped  very  low,  and  slid  along  the  floor  without 
making  the  slightest  noise,  every  now  and  then  stopping  per- 
fectly still.  Evelyn  watched  her  closely,  for  she  had  never 
seen  her  act  so  before.  Suddenly,  however,  Kittykin  gave  a 
spring,  and  disappeared  under  the  bureau.  Evelyn  heard  a 
little  squeak,  and  the  next  minute  Kittykin  walked  out  with 
a  little  mouse  in  her  mouth,  over  which  she  was  growling  like 
a  little  tigress.  Evelyn  was  jumping  up  to  take  it  away  from 
her  when  Kittykin,  who  had  gone  out  into  the  middle  of  the 
room,  turned  it  loose  herself,  and  quietly  walking  away,  lay 
down  as  if  she  were  going  to  sleep.  Then  Evelyn  saw  that 
she  did  not  mean  to  hurt  it,  so  she  sat  and  watched  the 
mouse,  which  remained  quite  still  for  some  time. 

After  a  while  it  moved  a  little,  to  see  if  Kittykin  was  really 
asleep.  Kittykin  did  not  stir.  Her  eyes  were  fast  shut,  and 
the  mouse  seemed  satisfied  ;  so,  after  waiting  a  bit,  it  made  a 
little  dash  toward  the  bureau.  In  a  single  bound  Kittykin 
was  right  over  it,  and  had  laid  her  white  paw  on  it.  She  did 
not,  however,  appear  to  intend  it  any  injury,  but  began  to 
play  with  it  just  as  Evelyn  would  have  liked  to  do  ;  and,  lying 
down,  she  rolled  over  and  over,  holding  it  up  and  tossing  it 
gently,  quite  as  Evelyn  sometimes  did  her,  or  patting  it  and 
admiring  it  as  if  it  had  been  the  sweetest  little  mouse  in  the 
world.      The  mouse,  too,  appeared   not  to   mind   it  the  least 


4S  KITTIKIN. 


bit ;  and  Evelyn  was  just  thinking  how  nice  it  was  that  Kitty- 
kin  and  it  had  become  such  friends,  and  was  planning  nice 
games  with  them,  when  there  was  a  faint  little  squeak,  and 
she  saw  Kittykin,  who  had  just  been  petting  the  little  crea- 
ture, suddenly  drive  her  sharp  white  teeth  into  its  neck. 

Evelyn  rushed  at  her. 

"  Oh,  you  wicked  Kittykin  !  Aren't  you  ashamed  of 
yourself?"  she  cried,  catching  her  up  by  the  tail  and  shak- 
ing her  well,  as  the  best  way  to  punish  her. 

Just  then  her  mamma  entered.  "  Oh,  Evelyn,  why  are 
you  treating  kitty  so?"  she  asked. 

"  Because  she's  so  mean,"  said  Evelyn,  severely.  "  She's 
a  murderer." 

Her  mamma  tried  to  explain  that  killing  the  mouse  was 
Kittykin's  nature  ;  but  Evelyn  could  not  see  that  this  made  it 
any  the  less  painful,  and  she  was  quite  cool  to  Kittykin  for 
some  time. 

The  little  mouse  was  buried  that  evening  in  a  matchbox 
under  a  rose-bush  in  the  garden  ;  and  Kittykin,  in  a  black  rag 
which  was  tied  around  her  as  a  dress,  was  compelled,  evi- 
dently much  against  her  will,  to  do  penance  by  acting  as  chief 
mourner. 


II. 


KITTYKIN  was  about  five  months  old  when  there  was  a 
great  marching  of  soldiers  backward  and  forward  ;  the 
tents  in  the  field  beyond  the  woods  were  taken  down 
and  carried  away  in  wagons,  and  there  was  an  immense  stir. 
The  army  was  said  to  be  "  moving."  There  were  rumors 
that  the  enemy  was  coming,  and  that  there  might  be  a  battle 
near  there.  Evelyn  was  so  young  that  she  did  not  under- 
stand any  more  of  it  than  Kittykin  did  ;  but  her  mother 
appeared  so  troubled  that  Evelyn  knew  it  was  very  bad, 
and  became  frightened,  though  she  did  not  know  why.  Her 
mammy  soon  gave  her  such  a  gloomy  account,  that  Evelyn 
readily  agreed  with  her  that  it  was  "  like  torment."  As  for 
Kittykin,  if  she  had  been  born  in  a  battle,  she  could  not  have 
been  more  unconcerned.  In  a  day  or  two  it  was  known  that 
the  main  body  of  the  army  was  some  little  way  off  on  a  long 
ridge,  and  that  the  enemy  had  taken  up  its  position  on 
another  hill  not  far  distant,  and  Evelyn's  home  was  between 
them  ;  but  there  was  no  battle.  Each  army  began  to 
intrench  itself  ;  and  in  a  little  while  there  was  a  long  red 
bank  stretched  across  the  far  edee  of  the  great  field  behind 
the  house,  which  Evelyn  was  told  was  "breastworks"  for  the 


50  KITTY  KIN,  AND    THE  PART 

picket  line,  and  she  pointed  them  out  to  Kittykin,  who 
blinked  and  yawned  as  if  she  did  not  care  the  least  bit  if 
they  were. 

Next  morning  a  small  squadron  of  cavalry  came  galloping 
by.  A  body  of  the  enemy  had  been  seen,  and  they  were 
going  to  learn  what  it  meant.  In  a  little  while  they  came 
back. 

"The  enemy,"  they  said,  "were  advancing,  and  there 
would  probably  be  a  skirmish  right  there  immediately." 

As  they  rode  by,  they  urged  Evelyn's  mamma  either  to 
leave  the  house  at  once  or  to  go  down  into  the  basement, 
where  they  might  be  safe  from  the  bullets.  Then  they  gal- 
loped on  across  the  field  to  get  the  rest  of  their  men,  who 
were  in  the  trenches  beyond.  Before  they  reached  there  a 
lot  of  men  appeared  on  the  edge  of  the  wood  in  front  of  the 
house.  No  one  could  tell  how  many  they  were  ;  but  the  sun 
gleamed  on  their  arms,  and  there  was  evidently  a  good  force. 
At  first  they  were  on  horseback  ;  but  there  was  a  "  Bop  ! 
bop  ! "  from  the  trenches  in  the  field  behind  the  house,  and 
they  rode  back,  and  did  not  come  out  any  more.  Next 
morning,  however,  they  too  had  dug  a  trench.  These, 
Evelyn  heard  some  one  say,  were  a  picket  line.  About 
eleven  o'clock  they  came  out  into  the  field,  and  they  seemed 
to  have  spread  themselves  out  behind  a  little  rise  or  knoll 
in  front  of  the  house.  Mammy's  teeth  were  just  chattering, 
and  she  went  to  moaning  and  saying  her  prayers  as  hard 
as  she  could,  and  Evelyn's  mamma  told  her  to  take  Evelyn 


SHE  FLAYED  IN   THE    WAR.  51 

down  into  the  basement,  and  she  would  bring  the  baby  ;  so 
mammy,  who  had  been  following  mamma  about,  seized 
Evelyn,  and  rushed  with  her  down-stairs,  where,  although 
they  were  quite  safe,  as  the  windows  were  only  half  above 
the  ground,  she  fell  on  her  face  on  the  floor,  praying  as  if 
her  last  hour  had  come.  "  Bop  !  bop  !  "  went  some  muskets 
up  behind  the  house.  "  Bang  !  bop  !  bang  !  "  went  some  on 
the  other  side. 

Evelyn  suddenly  remembered  Kittykin.  "  Where  was 
she  ? "  The  last  time  she  had  seen  her  was  a  half-hour 
before,  when  she  had  been  lying  curled  up  on  the  back  steps 
fast  asleep  in  the  sun.  Suppose  she  should  be  there  now, 
she  would  certainly  be  killed,  for  the  back  steps  ran  right  out 
into  the  yard  so  as  to  be  just  the  place  for  Kittykin  to  be 
shot.  So  thought  Evelyn.  "  Bang!  bang!"  went  the  guns 
again— somewhere.  Evelyn  dragged  a  chair  up  to  a  window 
and  looked.  Her  heart  almost  stopped  ;  for  there,  out  in 
the  yard,  quite  clear  of  the  houses,  was  Kittykin,  standing 
some  way  up  the  trunk  of  a  tall  locust-tree,  looking  curiously 
around.  Her  little  white  body  shone  like  a  small  patch  of 
snow  against  the  dark  brown  bark.  Evelyn  sprang  down 
from  the  chair,  and  forgetting  everything,  rushed  through 
the  entry  and  out  of  doors. 

"  Kitty,  kitty,  kitty  !  "  she  called.  "  Kittykin,  come  here  ! 
You'll  be  killed  !     Come  here,  Kittykin  !" 

Kittykin,  however,  was  in  for  a  game,  and  as  her  little 
mistress,  with  her  golden  hair  flying  in  the  breeze,  ran  toward 


52  KITTYKIN,  AND    THE  PART 

her,  she  rushed  scampering  still  higher  up  the  tree.  Evelyn 
could  see  that  there  were  some  men  scattered  out  in  the 
fields  on  either  side  of  her,  some  of  them  stooping,  and  some 
lying  down,  and  as  she  ran  on  toward  the  tree  she  heard  a 
"Bang!  bang!"  on  each  side,  and  she  saw  little  puffs  of 
white  smoke,  and  something  went  "  Zoo-ee-ee  "  up  in  the  air  ; 
but  she  did  not  think  about  herself,  she  was  so  frightened  for 
Kittykin. 

"Kitty,  kitty!  Come  down,  Kittykin  !"  she  called,  run- 
ning up  to  the  tree  and  holding  up  her  arms  to  her.  Kitty- 
kin might,  perhaps,  have  liked  to  come  down  now,  but  she 
could  no  longer  do  so  ;  she  was  too  high  up.  She  looked 
down,  first  over  one  shoulder,  and  then  over  the  other,  but  it 
was  too  high  to  jump.  She  could  not  turn  around,  and  her 
head  began  to  swim.  She  grew  so  dizzy,  she  was  afraid  she 
might  fall,  so  she  dug  her  little  sharp  claws  into  the  bark, 
and  began  to  cry. 

Evelyn  would  have  run  back  to  tell  her  mamma  (who, 
having  sent  the  baby  down-stairs  to  mammy,  was  still  busy 
up-stairs  trying  to  hide  some  things,  and  so  did  not  know  she 
was  out  in  the  yard);  but  she  was  so  afraid  Kittykin  might 
be  killed  that  she  could  not  let  her  get  out  of  her  sight. 
Indeed,  she  was  so  absorbed  in  Kittykin  that  she  forgot 
all  about  everything  else.  She  even  forgot  all  about  the 
soldiers.  But  though  she  did  not  notice  the  soldiers,  it 
seemed  that  some  of  them  had  observed  her.  Just  as  the 
leader  of  the  Confederate  picket   line  was  about  to  give  an 


SHE  PLA  YED   IN    THE    WAR.  55 

order  to  make  a  dash  for  the  houses  in  the  yard,  to  his  hor- 
ror he  saw  a  little  girl  in  a  white  dress  and  with  flying  hair 
suddenly  run  out  into  the  clear  space  right  between  him  and 
the  soldiers  on  the  other  side,  and  stop  under  a  tree  just  in 
the  line  of  their  fire.  His  heart  jumped  into  his  mouth  as  he 
sprang  to  his  feet  and  waved  his  hands  wildly  to  call  atten- 
tion to  the  child.  Then  shouting  to  his  men  to  stop  firing, 
he  walked  out  in  front  of  the  line,  and  came  at  a  rapid  stride 
down  the  slope.  The  others  all  stood  still  and  almost  held 
their  breaths  for  fear  some  one  would  shoot ;  but  no  one  did. 
Evelyn  was  so  busy  trying  to  coax  Kittykin  down  that  she 
did  not  notice  anything  until  she  heard  some  one  call  out  : 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  run  into  the  house,  quick  !  " 

She  looked  around  and  saw  the  gentleman  hurrying 
toward  her.      He  appeared  to  be  very  much  excited. 

"  What  on  earth  are  you  doing  out  here  ?"  he  gasped,  as 
he  came  running  up  to  her. 

He  was  a  young  man,  with  just  a  little  light  mustache, 
and  with  a  little  gold  braid  on  the  sleeves  of  his  gray  jacket ; 
and  though  he  seemed  very  much  surprised,  he  looked  very 
kind. 

"  I  want  my  Kittykin,"  said  Evelyn,  answering  him,  and 
looking  up  the  tree,  with  a  little  wave  of  her  hand,  towards 
where  Kittykin  still  clung  tightly.  Somehow  she  felt  at  the 
moment  that  this  gentleman  could  help  her  better  than  any 
one  else. 

Kittykin,  however,   apparently   thought   differently   about 


56  KITTYKIN,  AND    THE  PART 

it ;  for  she  suddenly  stopped  mewing  ;  and  as  if  she  felt  it 
unsafe  to  be  so  near  a  stranger,  she  climbed  carefully  up 
until  she  reached  a  limb,  in  the  crotch  of  which  she  en- 
sconced herself,  and  peeped  curiously  over  at  them  with  a 
look  of  great  satisfaction  in  her  face,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"  Now   I'm  safe.      I'd  like  to  see  you  get  me." 

The  gentleman  was  stroking  Evelyn's  hair,  and  was 
looking  at  her  very  intently,  when  a  voice  called  to  him 
from  the  other  side  : 

"  Hello,  Johnny!   what's  the  matter?" 

Evelyn  looked  around,  and  saw  another  gentleman  coming 
toward  them.  He  was  older  than  the  first  one,  and  had  on  a 
blue  coat,  while  the  first  had  on  a  gray  one.  She  knew  one 
was  a  Confederate  and  the  other  was  a  Yankee,  and  for  a 
second  she  was  afraid  they  might  shoot  each  other,  but  her 
first  friend  called  out  : 

"  Her  kitten  is  up  the  tree.     Come  ahead  !" 

He  came  on,  and  looked  for  a  second  up  at  Kittykin,  but 
he  looked  at  Evelyn  really  hard,  and  suddenly  stooped  down, 
and  putting  his  arm  around  her,  drew  her  up  to  him.  She  got 
over  he-r  fear  in  a  minute. 

"Kittykin's  up  there,  and  I'm  afraid  she'll  be  kilt."  She 
waved  her  hand  up  over  her  head,  where  Kittykin  was  taking 
occasion  to  put  a  few  more  limbs  between  herself  and  the 
enemy. 

"  It's  rather  a  dangerous  place  when  the  boys  are  out 
hunting,  eh,  Johnny?"      He  laughed  as  he  stood  up  again. 


SHE  PLA  YED  IN    THE    WAR.  57 

"  Yes,  for  as  big  a  fellow  as  you.  You  wouldn't  stand  the 
ghost  of  a  show." 

"  I  guess  I'd  feel  small  enough  up  there."  And  both 
men  laughed. 

By  this  time  the  men  on  both  sides  began  to  come  up, 
with  their  guns  over  their  arms. 

"  Hello  !   what's  up  ?"  some  of  them  called  out. 

"  Her  kitten's  up,"  said  the  first  two  ;  and,  to  make  good 
their  words,  Kittykin,  not  liking  so  many  people  below  her, 
shifted  her  position  again,  and  went  up  to  a  fresh  limb,  from 
which  she  again  peeped  over  at  them.  The  men  all  gathered 
around  Evelyn,  and  began  to  talk  to  her,  and  both  she  and 
Kittykin  were  surprised  to  hear  them  joking  and  laughing 
together  in  the  friendliest  way. 

"  What  are  you  doing  out  here  ?"  they  asked  ;  and  to  all 
she  made  the  same  reply  : 

"  I  want  my  Kittykin." 

Suddenly  her  mamma  came  out.  She  had  just  gone 
down-stairs,  and  had  learned  where  Evelyn  was.  The  two 
officers  went  up  and  spoke  to  her,  but  the  men  still  crowded 
around  Evelyn. 

"  She'll  come  down,"  said  one.  "  All  you  have  to  do  is 
to  let  her  alone." 

"  No,  she  won't.  She  can't  come  down.  It  makes  her 
head  swim,"  said  Evelyn. 

"  That's  true,"  thought  Kittykin  up  in  the  tree,  and  to  let 
them  understand  it  she  gave  a  little  "  Mew." 


58  KITTYKIN,  AND    THE  PART 

"  I  don't  see  how  anything  can  swim  when  it's  as  dry  as 
it  is  around  here,"  said  a  fellow  in  gray. 

A  man  in  blue  handed  him  his  canteen,  which  he  at  once 
accepted,  and  after  surprising  Evelyn  by  smelling  it — which 
she  knew  was  dreadfully  bad  manners — turned  it  up  to  his 
lips.      She  heard  the  liquid  gurgling. 

As  he  handed  it  back  to  its  owner  he  said:  "Yank,  I'm 
mighty  glad  I  didn't  shoot  you.  I  might  have  hit  that  can- 
teen." At  which  there  was  a  laugh,  and  the  canteen  went 
around  until  it  was  empty.  Suddenly  Kittykin  from  her  high 
perch  gave  a  faint  "  Mew,"  which  said,  as  plainly  as  words 
could  say  it,  that  she  wanted  to  get  down  and  could  not. 

Evelyn's  big  brown  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "  I  want  my 
Kittykin,"  she  said,  her  little  lip  trembling. 

Instantly  a  dozen  men  unbuckled  their  belts,  laid  their 
guns  on  the  ground,  and  pulled  off  their  coats,  each  one  try. 
ing  to  be  the  first  to  climb  the  tree.  It  was,  however,  too 
large  for  them  to  reach  far  enough  around  to  get  a  good 
hold  on  it,  so  climbing  it  was  found  to  be  far  more  difficult 
than  it  looked  to  be. 

"  Why  don't  you  cut  it  down  ?"  asked  some  one. 

But  Evelyn  cried  out  that  that  would  kill  Kittykin,  so 
the  man  who  suggested  it  was  called  a  fool  by  the  others. 
At  last  it  was  proposed  that  one  man  should  stand  against 
the  tree  and  another  should  climb  up  on  his  shoulders,  when 
he  might  get  his  arms  far  enough  around  it  to  work  his  way 
up.      A  stout  fellow  with   a  gray  jacket  on  planted   himself 


SHE  PLA  YED   IN    THE    WAR.  59 

firmly  against  the  trunk,  and  one  who  had  taken  off  a  blue 
jacket  climbed  up  on  his  shoulders,  and  might  have  got  up 
very  well  if  he  had  not  remarked  that  as  the  Johnnies  had 
walked  over  him  in  the  last  battle,  it  was  but  fair  that  he 
should  now  walk  over  a  Johnny.  This  joke  tickled  the  man 
under  him  so  that  he  slipped  away  and  let  him  down.  At 
length,  however,  three  or  four  men  got  good  "  holds,"  and 
went  slowly  up  one  after  the  other  amid  such  encouraging 
shouts  from  their  friends  on  the  ground  below  as  :  "  Go  it, 
Yank,  the  Johnny's  almost  got  you!"  "Look  out,  Johnny, 
the  Yanks  are  right  behind  you  !  "  etc.,  whilst  Kittykin  gazed 
down  in  astonishment  from  above,  and  Evelyn  looked  up 
breathless  from  below.  With  much  pulling  and  kicking, 
four  men  finally  got  up  to  the  lowest  limb,  after  which  the 
climbing  was  comparatively  easy.  A  new  difficulty,  how- 
ever, presented  itself.  Kittykin  suddenly  took  alarm,  and 
retreated  still  higher  up   among  the  branches. 

The  higher  they  climbed  after  that,  the  higher  she  climbed, 
until  she  was  away  up  on  one  of  the  topmost  boughs,  which 
was  far  too  slender  for  any  one  to  follow  her.  There  she 
turned  and  looked  back  with  alternate  alarm  and  satisfaction 
expressed  in  her  countenance.  If  the  men  stirred,  she  stood 
ready  to  fly  ;  if  they  kept  still,  she  settled  down  and  mewed 
plaintively.  Once  or  twice  as  they  moved  she  took  fright 
and  looked  almost  as  if  about  to  jump. 

Evelyn  was  breathless  with  excitement.  "  Don't  let  her 
jump,"  she  called,  "she  will  get  kilt  !" 


60  KITTYKIN,  AND    THE  PART 

The  men,  too,  were  anxious  to  prevent  that.  They  called 
to  her,  held  out  their  hands,  and  coaxed  her  in  every  tone  by 
which  a  kitten  is  supposed  to  be  influenced.  But  it  was  all 
in  vain.  No  cajoleries,  no  promises,  no  threats,  were  of  the 
least  avail.  Kittykin  was  there  safe,  out  of  their  reach,  and 
there  she  would  remain,  sixty  feet  above  the  ground.  Sud- 
denly she  saw  that  something  was  occurring  below.  She  saw 
the  men  all  gather  around  her  little  mistress,  and  could  hear 
her  at  first  refuse  to  let  something  be  done,  and  then  consent. 
She  could  not  make  out  what  it  was,  though  she  strained  her 
ears.  She  remembered  to  have  heard  mammy  tell  her  little 
mistress  once  that  "curiosity  had  killed  a  cat,"  and  she  was 
afraid  to  think  too  much  about  it  so  high  up  in  the  tree.  Still 
when  she  heard  an  order  given,  "  Go  back  and  get  your  blank- 
ets," and  saw  a  whole  lot  of  the  men  gfo  running  off  into  the 
field  on  either  side,  and  presently  come  back  with  their  arms 
full  of  blankets,  she  could  not  help  wondering  what  they  were 
going  to  do.  They  at  once  began  to  unroll  the  blankets  and 
hold  them  open  all  around  the  tree,  until  a  large  circle  of  the 
ground  was  quite  hidden. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Kittykin,  "  it's  a  wicked  trap  !  "  and  she  dug 
her  little  claws  deep  into  the  bark,  and  made  up  her  mind 
that  nothing  should  induce  her  to  jump.  Presently  she  heard 
the  soldiers  in  the  tree  under  her  call  to  those  on  the 
ground  : 

"  Are  you  ready  ?  " 

And  they  said,  "  All  right  ! " 


SHE  PLAYED   IN    THE    WAR.  61 

"Ah!"  said  Kittykin,  "they  cannot  get  down,  either. 
Serves  them  right  !  " 

But  suddenly  they  all  waved  their  arms  at  her  and  cried, 
"  Scat ! " 

Goodness  !  The  idea  of  crying  "scat  "  at  a  kitten  when 
she  is  up  in  a  tree  ! — "scat,"  which  fills  a  kitten's  breast  with 
terror  !  It  was  brutal,  and  then  it  was  all  so  unexpected.  It 
came  very  near  making  her  fall.  As  it  was,  it  set  her  heart 
to  thumping  and  bumping  against  her  ribs,  like  a  marble  in 
a  box.  "  Ah  !  "  she  thought,  "  if  those  brutes  below  were  but 
mice,  and  I  had  them  on  the  carpet  !  "  So  she  dug  her  claws 
into  the  bark,  which  was  quite  tender  up  there,  and  it  was 
well  she  did,  for  she  heard  some  one  call  something  below 
that  sounded  like  "  Shake  !"  and  before  she  knew  it  the  man 
nearest  her  reached  up,  and,  seizing  the  limb  on  which  she 
was,  screwed  up  his  face,  and —  Goodness  !  it  nearly  shook 
the  teeth  out  of  her  mouth  and  the  eyes  out  of  her  head. 

Shake  !  shake  !  shake !  it  came  again,  each  time  nearly 
tearing  her  little  claws  out  of  their  sockets  and  scaring  her  to 
death.  She  saw  the  ground  swim  far  below  her,  and  felt  that 
she  would  be  mashed  to  death.  Shake  !  shake  !  shake  !  shake  ! 
She  could  not  hold  out  much  longer,  and  she  spat  down  at 
them.  How  those  brutes  below  laughed  !  She  formed  a 
desperate  resolve.  She  would  get  even  with  them.  "  Ah,  if 
they  were  but —  "  Shake  !  sha —  With  a  fierce  spit,  partly 
of  rage,  partly  of  fear,  Kittykin  let  go,  whirled  suddenly,  and 
flung  herself  on  the  upturned  face  of  the  man  next  beneath 


62  KITTYKIN,  AND    THE  PART 

her,  from  him  to  the  man  below  him,  and  finally,  digging  her 
little  claws  deep  in  his  flesh,  sprang  with  a  wild  leap  clear  of 
the  boughs,  and  shot  whizzing  out  into  the  air,  whilst  the  two 
men,  thrown  off  their  guard  by  the  suddenness  of  the  attack, 
loosed  their  hold,  and  went  crashing  clown  into  the  forks  upon 
those  below. 

The  first  thing  Evelyn  and  the  men  on  the  ground  knew 
was  the  crash  of  the  falling  men  and  the  sight  of  Kittykin 
coming  whizzing  down,  her  little  claws  clutching  wildly  at 
the  air.  Before  they  could  see  what  she  was,  she  gave  a 
bounce  like  a  trap-ball  as  high  as  a  man's  head,  and  then, 
as  she  touched  the  ground  again,  shot  like  a  wild  sky-rocket 
hissing  across  the  yard,  and,  with  her  tail  all  crooked  to 
one  side  and  as  big  as  her  body,  vanished  under  the  house. 
Oh,  such  a  shout  as  there  was  from  the  soldiers  !  Evelyn 
heard  them  yelling  as  she  ran  off  after  Kittykin  to  see  if 
she  wasn't  dead.  They  fairly  howled  with  delight  as  the 
men  in  the  tree,  with  scratched  faces  and  torn  clothes,  came 
crawling  down.  They  looked  very  sheepish  as  they  landed 
among  their  comrades  ;  but  the  question  whether  Kittykin 
had  landed  in  a  blanket  or  had  hit  the  solid  ground  fifty 
feet  out  somewhat  relieved  them.  They  all  agreed  that  she 
had  bounced  twenty  feet. 

Why  Kittykin  was  not  killed  outright  was  a  marvel.  One 
of  her  eyes  was  a  little  bunged  up,  the  claws  on  three  of  her 
feet  were  loosened,  and  for  a  week  she  felt  as  if  she  had  been 
run  through  a  sausage  mill  ;  but  she  never  lost  any  of  her 


SHE  PLA  YED  IN   THE    WAR.  63 

speed.  Ever  afterward  when  she  saw  a  soldier  she  would  run 
for  life,  and  hide  as  far  back  under  the  house  as  she  could 
get,  with  her  eyes  shining  like  two  little  live  coals. 

For  some  time,  indeed,  she  lived  in  perpetual  terror,  for 
the  soldiers  of  both  lines  used  to  come  up  to  the  house,  as 
the  friendship  they  formed  that  day  never  was  changed,  and 
though  they  remained  on  the  two  opposite  hills  for  quite  a 
while,  they  never  fired  a  shot  at  each  other.  They  used  in- 
stead to  meet  and  exchange  tobacco  and  coffee,  and  laugh 
over  the  way  Kittykin  routed  their  joint  forces  in  the  tree 
the  day  of  the  skirmish. 

As  for  Kittykin,  she  never  put  on  any  airs  about  it.  She 
did  not  care  for  that  sort  of  glory.  She  never  afterward 
could  tolerate  a  tree  ;  the  earth  was  good  enough  for  her  ; 
and  the  highest  she  ever  climbed  was  up  in  her  little  mis- 
tress's lap. 


"NANCY    PANSY." 


i. 


u  1\  T  ANCY  PANSY"  was  what  Middleburgh  called  her, 
(  \  though  the  parish  register  of  baptism  contained 
nothing  nearer  the  name  than  that  of  one  Anne, 
daughter  of  Baylor  Seddon,  Esq.,  and  Ellenor  his  wife. 
Whatever  the  register  may  have  thought  about  it,  "  Nancy 
Pansy"  was  what  Middleburgh  called  her,  and  she  looked  so 
much  like  a  cherub,  with  her  great  eyes  laughing  up  at  you 
and  her  tangles  blowing  all  about  her  dimpling  pink  face, 
that  Dr.  Spotswood  Hunter,  or  "the  Old  Doctor,"  as  he 
was  known  to  Middleburgh,  used  to  vow  she  had  gotten  out 
of  Paradise  by  mistake  that  Christmas  Eve. 

Nancy  Pansy  was  the  idol  of  the  old  doctor,  as  the  old 
doctor  was  the  idol  of  Middleburgh.  He  had  given  her  a 
doll  baby  on  the  day  she  was  born,  and  he  always  brought 
her  one  on  her  birthday,  though,  of  course,  the  first  three  or 
four  which  he  gave  her  were  of  rubber,  because  as  long  as 
she  was  a  little  girl  she  used  to  chew  her  doll  after  a  most 
cannibal-like    fashion,   she  and   Harry's  puppies  taking    turn 


66  "NANCY  PANSY.' 


and  turn  about  at  chewing  in  the  most  impartial  and 
friendly  way.  Harry  was  the  old  doctor's  son.  As  she  grew 
a  little  older,  however,  the  doctor  brought  her  better  dolls  ; 
but  the  puppies  got  older  faster  than  Nancy  Pansy,  and  kept 
on  chewing  up  her  dolls,  so  they  did  not  last  very  long, 
which,  perhaps,  was  why  she  never  had  a  "  real  live  doll,"  as 
she  called  it. 

Some  people  said  the  reason  the  old  doctor  was  so  fond 
of  Nancy  Pansy  was  because  he  had  been  a  lover  of  her 
beautiful  aunt,  whose  picture  as  Charity  giving  Bread  to  the 
Poor  Woman  and  her  Children  was  in  the  stained-glass  win- 
dow in  the  church,  with  the  Advent  angel  in  the  panel  below, 
to  show  that  she  had  died  at  Christmas-tide  and  was  an  angel 
herself  now  ;  some  said  it  was  because  he  had  had  a  little 
daughter  himself  who  had  died  when  a  wee  bit  of  a  oirl, 
and  Nancy  Pansy  reminded  him  of  her  ;  some  said  it  was 
because  his  youngest  born,  his  boy  Harry,  with  the  light 
hair,  who  now  commanded  a  company  in  the  Army  of  North- 
ern Virginia,  was  so  fond  of  Nancy  Pansy's  lovely  sister 
Ellen  ;  some  said  it  was  because  the  old  doctor  was  fond  of 
all  children  ;  but  the  old  doctor  said  it  was  "because  Nancy 
Pansy  was  Nancy  Pansy,"  and  looked  like  an  angel,  and  had 
more  sense  than  anybody  in  Middleburgh,  except  his  old 
sorrel  horse  Slouch,  who,  he  always  maintained,  had  sense 
enough  to  have  prevented  the  war  if  he  had  been  consulted. 

Whatever  was  the  cause,  Nancy  Pansy  was  the  old  doc- 
tor's boon  companion  ;    and  wherever    the    old    doctor    was, 


'■NANCY  PANSY."  .  07 


whether  in  his  old  rattling  brown  buggy,  with  Slouch  jog- 
ging sleepily  along  the  dusty  roads  which  Middleburgh 
called  her  "streets,"  or  sitting  in  the  shadiest  corner  of  his 
porch,  Nancy  Pansy  was  in  her  waking  hours  generally  be- 
side him,  her  great  pansy-colored  eyes  and  her  sunny  hair 
makine  a  bright  contrast  to  the  white  locks  and  tanned 
cheeks  of  the  old  man.  His  home  was  just  across  the  fence 
from  the  big  house  in  which  Nancy  Pansy  lived,  and  there 
was  a  hole  where  two  palings  were  pulled  off,  through  which 
Nancy  Pansy  used  to  slip  when  she  went  back  and  forth, 
and  through  which  her  little  black  companion,  whose  name, 
according  to  Nancy  Pansy's  dictionary,  was  "  Marphy,"  just 
could  squeeze.  Sometimes,  indeed,  Nancy  Pansy  used  to 
fall  asleep  over  at  the  old  doctor's  on  the  warm  summer 
afternoons,  and  wake  up  next  morning,  curiously  enough,  to 
find  herself  in  a  strange  room,  in  a  great  big  bed,  with  a  rail- 
ing around  the  top  of  the  high  bedposts,  and  curtains  hang- 
ing from  it,  and  with  Marphy  asleep  on  a  pallet  near  by. 

"  That  child  is  your  shadow,  doctor,"  said  Nancy  Pansy's 
mother  one  day  to  him. 

"  No,  madam  ;  she  is  my  sunshine,"  answered  the  old 
man,  gravely. 

Nancy  Pansy's  mother  smiled,  for  when  the  old  doctor 
said  a  thing  he  meant  it.  All  Middleburgh  knew  that,  from 
old  Slouch,  who  never  would  open  his  eyes  for  any  one  else, 
and  old  Mrs.  Hippin,  who  never  would  admit  she  was  better 
to  any  one  else,   up  to   Nancy   Pancy  herself.      Perhaps  this 


68  ,  "NANCY  PANSY." 


was  the  reason  why  when  the  war  broke  out,  and  all  the 
other  men  went  into  the  army,  the  old  doctor,  who  was  too 
old  and  feeble  to  go  himself,  but  had  sent  his  only  son 
Harry,  was  chosen  by  tacit  consent  as  Middleburgh's  general 
adviser  and  guardian.  Thus  it  was  he  who  had  to  advise 
Mrs.  Latimer,  the  druggist's  wife,  how  to  keep  the  little 
apothecary's  shop  at  the  corner  of  the  Court-house  Square 
after  her  husband  went  into  the  army ;  and  it  was  he  who 
advised  Mrs.  Seddon  to  keep  the  post-office  in  the  little 
building  at  the  bottom  of  her  lawn,  which  had  served  as  her 
husband's  law  office  before  he  went  off  to  the  war  at  the  head 
of  the  Middleburgh  Artillery.  He  even  gave  valuable  assist- 
ance as  well  as  advice  to  Mrs.  Hippin  about  curing  her 
chickens  of  the  gapes  ;  and  to  Nancy  Pansy's  great  astonish- 
ment had  several  times  performed  a  most  remarkable  oper- 
ation by  inserting  a  hair  from  old  Slouch's  mane  down  the 
invalid's  little  stretched  throat. 

He  used  to  go  around  the  town  nearly  every  afternoon, 
seeing  the  healthy  as  well  as  the  sick,  and  giving  advice  as 
well  as  physic,  both  being  taken  with  equal  confidence.  It 
was  what  he  called  "reviewing  his  out-posts,"  and  he  used  to 
explain  to  Nancy  Pansy  that  that  was  the  way  her  father  and 
his  Harry  did  in  their  camp.  Nancy  Pansy  did  not  wholly 
understand  him,  but  she  knew  it  was  something  that  was  just 
right;  so  she  nodded  gravely,  and  said,  "  Umh-hmh  !" 

It  was  not  hard  to  get  a  doll  the  first  year  of  the  war,  but 
before  the  second  year  was  half  over  there  was  not  one  left 


■NANCY  PANSY."  69 


in  Middleburgh.  The  old  doctor  explained  to  Nancy  Pansy 
that  they  had  all  gone  away  to  the  war.  She  did  not  quite 
understand  what  dollies  had  to  do  with  fighting,  but  she 
knew  that  war  made  the  dolls  disappear.  Still  she  kept  on 
talking  about  the  new  doll  she  would  get  on  her  birthday  at 
Christmas,  and  as  the  old  doctor  used  to  talk  to  her  about  it, 
and  discuss  the  sort  of  hair  it  should  have,  and  the  kind  of 
dress  it  should  wear,  she  never  doubted  that  she  should  get  it 
in  her  stocking  as  usual  on  Christmas  morning. 


II. 

THE  old  doctor's  boots  were  very  bad — those  old  boots 
which  Middleburgh  knew  as  well  as  they  knew  Nancy 
Pansy's  eyes  or  the  church  steeple.  Mrs.  Seddon  had 
taken  the  trouble  to  scold  him  one  day  in  the  autumn  when 
she  heard  him  coughing,  and  she  had  sent  him  a  small  roll  of 
money  "  on  account,"  she  wrote  him,  "  of  a  long  bill,"  to  get 
a  pair  of  new  boots.  The  old  doctor  never  sent  in  a  bill  ;  he 
would  as  soon  have  sent  a  small-pox  patient  into  Nancy 
Pansy's  play-room.  He  calmly  returned  the  money,  saying  he 
never  transacted  business  with  women  who  had  husbands,  and 
that  he  had  always  dressed  to  suit  himself,  at  which  Mrs. 
Seddon  laughed  ;  for,  like  the  rest  of  Middleburgh,  she  knew 
that  those  old  boots  never  stood  back  for  any  weather,  how- 
ever bad.  She  arranged,  however,  to  have  a  little  money  sent 
to  him  through  the  post-office  from  another  town  without  any 
name  to  the  letter  enclosing  it.  But  the  old  boots  were  still 
worn,  and  Nancy  Pansy,  at  her  mother's  suggestion,  learned 
to  knit,  that  she  might  have  a  pair  of  yarn  socks  knit  for 
the  old  doctor  at  Christmas.  She  intended  to  have  kept  this 
a  secret,  and  she  did  keep  it  from  every  one  but  the  doctor  ; 
she  did  not  quite  tell  even  him,  but  she  could  not  help  mak- 


"NANCY  PANSY."  71 


ing  him  "  guess  "  about  it.  Christmas  Eve  she  went  over  to 
the  old  doctor's,  and  whilst  she  made  him  shut  his  eyes,  hung 
up  his  stocking  herself,  into  which  she  poked  a  new  pair  of 
very  queer-shaped  yarn  socks,  a  little  black  in  some  places 
from  her  little  hands,  for  they  were  just  done,  and  there  had 
not  been  time  to  wash  them.  She  consulted  the  old  doctor 
to  know  if  he  really — really,  "now,  really" — thought  Santa 
Claus  would  bring  her  a  doll  "through  the  war;"  but  she 
could  only  get  a  "perhaps"  out  of  him,  for  he  said  he 
had  not  heard   from   Harry. 

It  was  about  ten  o'clock  that  night  when  the  old  doctor 
came  home  from  his  round  of  visits,  and  opening  his  old 
secretary,  took  out  a  long  thin  bundle  wrapped  in  paper, 
and  slipping  it  into  his  pocket,  went  out  again  into  the  snow 
which  was  falling.  Old  Limpid,  the  doctor's  man,  had  taken 
Slouch  to  the  stable,  so  the  old  doctor  walked,  stumbling 
around  through  the  dark  by  the  gate,  thinking  with  a  sigh 
of  his  boy  Harry,  who  would  just  have  vaulted  over  the 
palings,  and  who  was  that  night  sleeping  in  the  snow  some- 
where. However,  he  smiled  when  he  put  the  bundle  into 
Nancy  Pansy's  long  stocking,  and  he  smiled  again  when  he 
put  his  old  worn  boots  to  the  fire  and  warmed  his  feet. 
But  when  Nancy  Pansy  slipped  next  morning  through  her 
"  little  doctor's-gate,"  as  she  called  her  hole  in  the  fence,  and 
burst  into  his  room  before  he  was  out  of  bed,  to  show  him 
with  dancing  eyes  what  Santa  Claus  had  brought  her,  and 
announced  that  she  had   "  named  her  '  Harry,'   all    herself," 


72  "NANCY  PANSY.' 


the   old  doctor  had  to  wipe  his  eyes  before  he  could  really 
see  her. 

Harry  was  the  first  "real  doll"  Nancy  Pansy  had  ever 
had — that  was  what  she  said — and  Harry  soon  became  as 
well  known  in  Middleburgh  as  Nancy  Pansy  herself.  She 
used  to  accompany  Nancy  Pansy  and  the  old  doctor  on  their 
rounds,  and  instead  of  the  latter  two  being  called  "  the 
twins,"  they  and  Harry  were  now  dubbed  "the  triplets."  It 
was  astonishing  what  an  influence  Harry  came  to  have  on 
Nancy  Pansy's  life.  She  carried  her  everywhere,  and  the 
doll  would  frequently  be  seen  sitting  up  in  the  old  doctor's 
buggy  alone,  whilst  Slouch  dozed  in  the  sun  outside  of  some 
patient's  door.  Of  course,  so  much  work  as  Harry  had  to  do 
had  the  effect  of  marring  her  freshness  a  good  deal,  and 
she  met  with  one  or  two  severe  accidents,  such  as  break- 
ing her  leg,  and  cracking  her  neck  ;  but  the  old  doctor 
attended  her  in  the  gravest  way,  and  performed  such  success- 
ful operations  that  really  she  was,  except  as  to  looks,  almost 
as  good  as  new  ;  besides,  as  Nancy  Pansy  explained,  dolls 
had  to  have  measles  and  "  theseases  "  just  like  other  folks. 


III. 


IN   March,  1 86-   Middleburgh  "fell."     That  is,  it  fell  into 
the    hands    of   the   Union  army,  and  remained  in   their 
hands   afterwards.      It   was   terrible   at   first,  and   Nancy 
Pansy  stuffed   Harry  into  a  box,  and  hid  her  away. 

It  was  awfully  lonesome,  however,  and  to  think  of  the 
way  Harry  was  doubled  up  and  cramped  down  in  that  box 
under  the  floor  was  dreadful.  So  at  last,  finding  that  what- 
ever else  they  did,  the  soldiers  did  not  trouble  her,  she  took 
Harry  out.  But  she  never  could  go  about  with  her  as 
before,  for  of  course  things  were  different,  and  although  she 
got  over  her  fright  at  the  soldiers,  as  did  her  sister  Ellen  and 
the  rest  of  Middleburgh,  they  never  were  friendly.  Indeed, 
sometimes  they  were  just  the  reverse,  and  at  last  they  got  to 
such  a  pitch  that  the  regiment  which  was  there  was  taken 
away,  and  a  new  regiment,  or,  rather,  two  new  companies, 
were   sent  there.      These  were  Companies   A  and   C   of  the 

— th  Regiment  of Veterans.     They  had  been  originally 

known  as  Volunteers,  but   now  they  were  known  as  "  Vet- 
erans," because  they  had  been  in  so  many  battles. 

The  — th  were  perhaps  the  youngest  men  in  that  depart- 
ment, being  mainly  young  college  fellows  who  had  enlisted 


74  "NANCY  PANSY." 


all  together.  Some  of  the  regiments  composed  of  older  men 
were  at  first  inclined  to  laugh  at  the  smooth-faced  youngsters 
who  could  hardly  raise  a  mustache  to  a  mess  ;  but  when 
these  same  rosy-cheeked  fellows  flung  off  their  knapsacks  in 
battle  after  battle,  and  went  rushing  ahead  under  a  hail  of 
bullets  and  shell,  they  changed  their  tune  and  dubbed  them 
"The  Baby  Veterans."  Thus,  in  186-,  the  Baby  Veterans 
went  to  Middleburgh  for  a  double  purpose  : — first,  that  they 
might  recruit  and  rest ;  and,  secondly,  because  for  the  past 
six  months  Middleburgh  had  been  causing  much  worry,  and 
was  regarded  as  a  nest  of  treason  and  trouble.  The  regi- 
ment which  had  been  there  before  was  a  new  regiment,  not 
long  since  recruited,  and  had  been  in  a  continual  quarrel 
with  Middleburgh,  and  as  Middleburgh  consisted  mainly  of 
women  and  children,  and  a  few  old  men,  there  was  not  much 
honor  to  be  eot  out  of  rows  with  them.  Middleburgfh  com- 
plained  that  the  soldiers  were  tyrannical  and  caused  the 
trouble  ;  the  soldiers  insisted  that  Middleburgh  was  con- 
stantly breaking  the  regulations,  and  conducted  itself  in  a 
high-handed  and  rebellious  way,  and  treated  them  with  open 
scorn.  As  an  evidence,  it  was  cited  that  the  women  in 
Middleburgh  would  not  speak  to  the  Union  soldiers.  And 
it  was  rumored  that  the  girls  there  were  uncommonly  pretty. 
When  the  Baby  Veterans  heard  this,  they  simply  laughed, 
pulled  their  budding  mustaches,  and  announced  that  they 
would  "keep  things  straight  in  Middleburgh." 

Tom  Adams  was  first    lieutenant    of    Company  C.      He 


"NANCY  PANSY."  75 


had  enlisted  as  a  private,  and  had  been  rapidly  promoted  to 
corporal,  sergeant,  and  then  lieutenant ;  and  he  was  in  a  fair 
way  to  be  captain  soon,  as  the  captain  of  his  company  was 
at  home  badly  wounded,  and  if  he  should  be  permanently  dis- 
abled, Tom  was  certain  of  the  captaincy.  If  any  man  could 
bring  Middleburgh  to  terms,  Tom  Adams  was  the  man,  so 
his  friends  declared,  and  they  would  like  to  see  any  woman 
who  would  refuse  to  speak  to  Tom  Adams — they  really 
would. 

The  Baby  Veterans  reached  Middleburgh  in  the  night, 
and  took  up  their  quarters  on  the  Court-house  Square,  va- 
cated by  the  regiment  which  had  just  left.  When  morning 
came  they  took  a  look  at  Middleburgh,  and  determined  to 
intimidate  it  on  the  spot.  They  drilled,  marched  and 
counter-marched  up  and  down  the  dusty  streets,  and  around 
the  old  whitewashed  court-house,  to  show  that  they  meant 
business,  and  did  not  propose  to  stand  any  foolishness — 
not  they. 

Nancy  Pansy  and  her  sister  Ellen  had  been  with  Harry 
to  see  old  Mrs.  Hippin,  who  was  sick,  to  carry  her  some 
bread  and  butter,  and  were  returning  home  about  mid-day. 
They  had  not  seen  the  new  soldiers,  and  were  hurrying  along, 
hoping  they  might  not  see  them,  when  they  suddenly  heard 
the  drums  and  fifes  playing,  and  turning  the  corner,  they  saw 
the  soldiers  between  them  and  their  gate,  marching  up  the 
road  toward  them.  A  tall  young  officer  was  at  their  head  ; 
his  coat  was  buttoned  up  very  tight,  and  he  carried  his  drawn 


NANCY  PANSY." 


sword  with  the  handle  in  his  right  hand  and  the  tip  in  his 
left,  and  carried  his  head  very  high.  It  was  Tom  Adams. 
Nancy  Pansy  caught  tight  hold  of  her  sister's  hand,  and 
clasped  Harry  closely  to  her  bosom.  For  a  second  they 
stopped  ;  then,  as  there  was  no  help  for  it,  they  started  for- 
ward across  the  road,  just  in  front  of  the  soldiers.  They 
were  so  close  that  Nancy  Pansy  was  afraid  they  would  march 
over  them,  and  she  would  have  liked  to  run.  She  clutched 
sister's  hand  hard  ;  but  her  sister  did  not  quicken  her  pace  at 
all,  and  the  young  officer  had  to  give  the  order,  "  Mark  time 
— march!"  to  let  them  pass.  He  looked  very  grand  as 
he  drew  himself  up,  but  Nancy  Pansy's  sister  held  her  hand 
firmly,  and  took  not  the  slightest  notice  of  him.  Lifting  her 
head  defiantly  in  the  air,  and  keeping  her  dark  eyes  straight 
before  her,  she  passed  with  Nancy  Pansy  within  two  steps 
of  the  young  lieutenant  and  his  drawn  sword,  neither  quick- 
ening nor  slowing  her  pace  a  particle.  They  might  have 
seemed  not  to  know  that  a  Federal  soldier  was  within  a 
hundred  miles  of  them  but  for  the  way  that  Nancy  Pansy 
squeezed  Harry,  and  the  scornful  air  which  sat  on  her  sister's 
stern  little  face  and  erect  figure  as  she  drew  Nancy  Pansy 
closer  to  her,  and  gathered  up  her  skirts  daintily  in  her  small 
hand,  as  though  they  might  be  soiled  by  an  accidental 
touch. 

Tom  Adams  had  a  mind  to  give  the  order  "  Forward  !" 
and  make  them  run  out  of  the  way,  but  he  did  not  do  it,  so 
he   marched  back  to   camp,  and  told   the  story  to  his  mess, 


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"NANCY  PANSY." 


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walking  around  the  table,  holding  the  table-cloth  in  his  hand, 
to  show  how  the  little  rebel  had  done.  He  vowed  he  would 
get  even  with  her. 

As  the  days  went  on,  the  Baby  Veterans  and  Middleburgh 
came  no  nearer  being  acquainted  than  they  were  that  morn- 
ing. The  Baby  Veterans  still  drilled,  and  paraded,  and  set 
pickets  all  around  the  town  ;  Middleburgh  and  Nancy  Pansy 
still  picked  up  their  skirts  and  passed  by  with  uplifted  heads 
and  defiant  eyes.  The  Baby  Veterans  shouted  on  the  Court- 
house Square,  "  Yankee  Doodle "  and  the  "  Star-spangled 
Banner;"  Middleburgh  sang  on  its  verandas  and  in  its  par- 
lors, "  Dixie  "  and  the  "  Bonnie  Blue  Flag."  Perhaps,  some 
evenings  Middleburgh  may  have  stopped  its  own  singing,  and 
have  stolen  out  on  its  balconies  to  listen  to  the  rich  chorus 
which  came  up  from  the  Court-house  Grove,  bat  if  so,  the 
Baby  Veterans  never  knew  it ;  or  perhaps,  the  Baby  Veterans 
some  evenings  may  have  strolled  along  the  shadowed  streets, 
or  stretched  themselves  out  on  the  grass  to  listen  to  the 
sweet  voices  which  floated  down  from  the  embowered  veran- 
das in  the  Judge's  yard  ;  if  so,  Middleburgh  never  guessed  it. 

Nancy  Pansy  used  to  sing  sweetly,  and  she  would  often 
sing  whilst  her  sister  played  for  her. 

The  strict  regulations  established  by  the  soldiers  pre- 
vented any  letters  from  going  or  coming  unopened,  and 
Middleburgh  never  would  tolerate  that.  So  the  only  mail 
which  passed  through  the  office  was  that  which  the  Baby 
Veterans    received    or    sent.       As    stated,    Nancy     Pansy's 


8o  "NANCY  PANSY." 


mother,  by  the  old  doctor's  advice  and  for  reasons  good 
to  her  and  her  friends,  still  kept  the  post-office,  under  a 
sort  of  surveillance,  yet  the  intercourse  with  the  soldiers 
was  strictly  official  ;  the  letters  were  received  or  were  deliv- 
ered by  the  postmistress  in  silence,  or  if  the  Baby  Veterans 
asked  a  question  it  was  generally  replied  to  by  a  haughty 
bow,  or  an  ungracious  "  No." 

One  mail  day  Mrs.  Seddon  was  ill,  so  Nancy  Pansy's  sis- 
ter Ellen  had  to  go  to  open  the  mail,  and  Nancy  Pansy  went 
with  her,  taking  Harry  along,  "  to  take  care  of  them." 

It  happened  that  Tom  Adams  and  a  friend  came  in  to  ask 
for  their  letters.  Nancy  Pansy's  sister  was  standing  at  the 
table  arranging  the  mail,  and  Nancy  Pansy  was  sitting  up  on 
the  table  by  her,  holding  the  battered  but  cherished  Harry  in 
her  lap.  The  young  officer  stiffened  up  as  he  saw  who  was 
before  him. 

"  Are  there  any  letters  for  Lieutenant  Adams  ?"  he  asked, 
in  a  very  formal  and  stately  manner. 

There  was  no  reply  or  motion  to  show  that  he  had  been 
heard,  except  that  Nancy  Pansy's  sister  began  to  go  over  the 
letters  again  from  the  beginning  of  the  A's.  Suddenly  Nancy 
Pansy,  who  was  watching  her,  saw  one,  and  exclaiming,  "  Oh! 
there's  one  !  "  seized  it,  and  slipped  down  from  the  table  to 
give  it  to  its  owner,  proud  to  show  that  she  could  read  writ- 
ing. Before  she  had  reached  the  window,  however,  her  sis- 
ter caught  her  quickly,  and  taking  the  letter  from  her,  slowly 
advanced  and   handed  it  to  the  youncj  soldier;  then  turnine 


NANCY  PANSY." 


quietly  away,  she  took  out  her  handkerchief  and  wiped  her 
hand  very  hard  where  it  had  touched  the  letter,  as  if  it  had 
been  soiled.  The  young  officer  strode  out  of  the  door  with 
a  red  face  and  an  angry  step,  and  that  evening  the  story  of 
the  way  the  little  rebel  wiped  her  hands  after  touching  Tom 
Adams's  letter  was  all  over  camp. 


IV. 

AFTER  this  it  was  pretty  well  understood  that  the  Baby 
Veterans  and  Middleburgh  were  at  war.      The  regu- 
lations were  more  strictly  enforced  than  ever  before, 
and  for  a  while  it  looked  as  if  it  was  opting  t0  De  as  bad  as  it 

o  o 

was  when  the  other  regiment  was  there.  Old  Limpid,  the 
old  doctor's  man,  was  caught  one  night  with  some  letters  on 
his  person,  several  of  them  addressed  to  "  Captain  Harry 
Hunter,  Army  of  Northern  Virginia,"  etc.,  and  was  some- 
what severely  dealt  with,  though,  perhaps  fortunately  for  him 
and  his  master,  the  letters,  one  of  which  was  in  a  feminine 
hand,  whilst  abusive  of  the  soldiers,  did  not  contain  any  in- 
formation which  justified  very  severe  measures,  and  after  a 
warning  he  was  set  free  again. 

Nancy  Pansy's  sister  Ellen  was  enraged  next  day  to  re- 
ceive again  her  letter  from  a  corporal's  guard,  indorsed  with 
an  official  stamp,  "  Returned  by  order,"  etc.  She  actually 
cried  about  it. 

Nancy  Pansy  had  written  a  letter  to  Harry,  too — not  her 
own  Harry,  but  the  old  doctor's — and  hers  came  back  also  ; 
but  she  did  not  cry  about  it,  for  she  had  forgotten  to  tell 
Harry  that  she  had   a  kitten. 


"  NANCY  PANSY."  83 


Still  it  was  very  bad  ;  for  after  that  even  the  old  doctor 
was  once  more  subjected  to  the  strict  regulations  which  had 
existed  before  the  Baby  Veterans  came,  and  he  could  no 
longer  drive  in  and  out  at  will,  as  he  and  Nancy  Pansy  had 
been  doing  since  the  regiment  arrived. 

It  was  not,  however,  long  after  this  that  Nancy  Pansy  had 
quite  an  adventure.  She  and  Harry  had  been  with  the  old 
doctor,  and  the  old  doctor  had  to  go  and  see  some  children 
with  the  measles,  so,  as  Harry  had  never  had  measles,  he 
sent  her  and  Nancy  Pansy  back;  but  Nancy  Pansy  had  found 
an  old  cigar-box,  which  was  a  treasure,  and  would  have  made 
a  splendid  cradle  for  Harry,  except  that  it  was  so  short  that 
when  Harry's  legs  were  put  into  it,  her  head  and  shoulders 
stuck  up,  and  when  her  body  was  in  it,  her  legs  hung  out. 
Still,  if  it  would  not  do  for  a  cradle,  she  had  got  a  piece 
of  string,  and  it  would  do  for  a  carriage.  So  she  was  com- 
ing home  very  cheerfully,  thinking  of  the  way  Harry  would 
enjoy  her  ride  down  the  walk. 

It  was  just  at  this  time  that  Tom  Adams,  feeling  thor- 
oughly bored  with  his  surroundings,  left  camp  and  sauntered 
up  the  street  alone,  planning  how  he  could  get  his  company 
ordered  once  more  to  the  front.  He  could  not  stand  this 
life  any  longer.  As  he  strolled  along  the  walk  the  sound  of 
the  cheerful  voices  of  girls  behind  the  magnolias  and  rose 
bowers  came  to  him,  and  a  wave  of  homesickness  swept  over 
him  as  he  thought  of  his  sisters  and  little  nieces  away  up 
North. 


84  "NANCY  PANSY.1' 


Suddenly,  as  he  turned  a  corner,  he  saw  a  small  figure 
walking  slowly  along  before  him  ;  the  great  straw  hat  on  the 
back  of  her  head  almost  concealed  the  little  body,  but  her 
sunny  hair  was  peeping  down  below  the  broad  brim,  and 
Adams  knew  the  child. 

She  carried  under  her  arm  an  old  cigar-box,  out  of  one 
end  of  which  peeped  the  head  and  shoulders  of  an  old  doll, 
the  feet  of  which  stuck  out  of  the  other  end.  A  string  hung 
from  the  box,  and  trailed  behind  her  on  the  pathway.  She 
appeared  to  be  very  busy  about  something,  and  to  be  per- 
fectly happy,  for  as  she  walked  along  she  was  singing  out  of 
her  content  a  wordless  little  song  of  her  heart,  "  Tra-la-la, 
tra-la-la." 

The  young  officer  fell  into  the  same  gait  with  the  child, 
and  instinctively  trod  softly  to  keep  from  disturbing  her. 
Just  then,  however,  a  burly  fellow  named  Griff  O'Meara,  who 
had  belonged  to  one  of  the  companies  which  preceded  them, 
and  had  been  transferred  to  Adams's  company,  came  down  a 
side  street,  and  turned  into  the  walkway  just  behind  the  little 
maid.  He  seemed  to  be  tipsy.  The  trailing  string  caught 
his  eye,  and  he  tipped  forward  and  tried  to  step  on  it. 
Adams  did  not  take  in  what  the  fellow  was  trying  to  do  until 
he  attempted  it  the  second  time.  Then  he  called  to  him,  but 
it  was  too  late  ;  he  had  stepped  on  the  cord,  and  jerked  the 
box,  doll  and  all,  from  the  child's  arm.  The  doll  fell,  face 
down,  on  a  stone  and  broke  to  pieces.  The  man  gave  a 
great  laugh,  as  the  little  girl  turned,  with  a  cry  of  anguish, 


NANCY  PANSY."  85 


and  stooping,  began  to  pick  up  the  fragments,  weeping  in  a 
low,  pitiful  way.  In  a  second  Adams  sprang  forward,  and 
struck  the  fellow  a  blow  between  the  eyes  which  sent  him 
staggering  off  the  sidewalk,  down  in  the  road,  flat  on  his 
back.  He  rose  with  an  oath,  but  Adams  struck  him  a 
second  blow  which  laid  him  out  again,  and  the  fellow,  find- 
ing him  to  be  an  officer,  was  glad  to  slink  off.  Adams  then 
turned  to  the  child,  whose  tears,  which  had  dried  for  a 
moment  in  her  alarm  at  the  fight,  now  began  to  flow  again 
over  her  doll. 

"  Her  pretty  head's  all  broke  !  Oh — oh — oh  !  "  she 
sobbed,  trying  vainly  to  get  the  pieces  to  fit  into  something 
like  a  face. 

The  young  officer  sat  down  on  the  ground  by  her. 
"  Never  mind,  sissy,"  he  said,  soothingly,  "  let  me  see  if  I  can 
help  you." 

She  confidingly  handed  him  the  fragments,  whilst  she 
tried  to  stifle  her  sobs,  and  wiped  her  eyes  with  her  little 
pinafore. 

"Can  you  do  it?"  she  asked,  dolefully,  behind  her  pina- 
fore. 

"  I  hope  so.      What's  your  name  ?" 

"  Nancy  Pansy,  and  my  dolly's  named  Harry." 

"  Harry  ! "  Tom  looked  at  the  doll's  dress  and  the  frag- 
ments of  face,  which  certainly  were  not  masculine. 

"Yes,  Harry  Hunter.  He's  my  sweetheart,"  she  looked 
at  him  to  see  that  he  understood  her. 


86  "NANCY  PANSY." 


"Ah!" 

"  And  sister's,"  she  nodded,  confidently. 

"Yes,  I  see.      Where  is  he?" 

"  He's  a  captain  now.  He's  gone  away — away."  She 
waved  her  hand  in  a  wide  sweep  to  give  an  idea  of  the  great 
distance  it  was.      "  He's  in  the  army." 

"Come  along  with  me,"  said  Tom;  "let's  see  what  we 
can  do."  He  gathered  up  all  the  broken  pieces  in  his  hand- 
kerchief, and  set  out  in  the  direction  from  which  he  had 
come,  Nancy  Pansy  at  his  side.  She  slipped  her  little  hand 
confidingly  into  his. 

"You  knocked  that  bad  man  down  for  me,  didn't  you?" 
she  said,  looking  up  into  his  face.  Tom  had  not  felt  until 
then  what  a  hero  he  had  been. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  quite  graciously.  The  little  warm  fingers 
worked  themselves  yet  further  into  his  palm. 

At  the  corner  they  turned  up  the  street  toward  the  Court- 
house Square,  and  in  a  few  minutes  were  in  camp.  At  the 
sight  of  the  child  with  Adams  the  whole  camp  turned  out 
pell-mell,  as  if  the  "  long-roll "  had  beat. 

At  first  Nancy  Pansy  was  a  little  shy,  there  was  so  much 
excitement,  and  she  clung  tightly  to  Tom  Adams's  hand. 
She  soon  found,  however,  that  they  were  all  friendly. 

Tom  conducted  her  to  his  tent,  where  she  was  placed  in 
a  great  chair,  with  a  horse-cover  over  it,  as  a  sort  of  throne. 
The  story  of  O'Meara's  act  excited  so  much  indignation 
that  Tom  felt  it  necessary  to  explain  fully  the  punishment 
he  had  given  him. 


■NANCY  PANSY."  S7 


Nancy  Pansy,  feeling  that  she  had  an  interest  in  the 
matter,  suddenly  took  up  the  narrative. 

"  Yes,  he  jus'  knocked  him  down,"  she  said,  with  the 
most  charming  confidence,  to  her  admiring  audience,  her 
pink  cheeks  glowing  and  her  great  eyes  lighting  up  at  the 
recital,  as  she  illustrated  Tom's  act  with  a  most  expressive 
gesture  of  her  by  no  means  clean  little  fist. 

The  soldiers  about  her  burst  into  a  roar  of  delighted 
laughter,  and  made  her  tell  them  again  and  again  how  it 
was  done,  each  time  renewing  their  applause  over  the  'cute 
way  in  which  she  imitated  Tom's  act.  Then  they  all  insisted 
on  being  formally  introduced,  so  Nancy  Pansy  was  stood 
upon  the  table,  and  the  men  came  by  in  line,  one  by  one, 
and  were  presented  to  her.      It  was  a  regular  levee. 

Presently  she  said  she  must  go  home,  so  she  was  taken 
down  ;  but  before  she  was  allowed  to  leave,  she  was  invited 
to  go  through  the  camp,  each  man  insisting  that  she  should 
visit  his  tent.  She  made,  therefore,  a  complete  tour,  and  in 
every  tent  some  souvenir  was  pressed  upon  her,  or  she  was 
begged  to  take  her  choice  of  its  contents.  Thus,  before  she 
had  gone  far,  she  had  her  arms  full  of  things,  and  a  string 
of  men  were  following'  her  bearing-  the  articles  she  had  hon- 
ored  them  by  accepting.  There  were  little  looking-glasses, 
pin-cushions,  pairs  of  scissors,  pictures,  razors,  bits  of  gold- 
lace,  cigar-holders,  scarf-pins,  and  many  other  things. 

When  she  left  camp  she  was  quite  piled  up  with  things, 
whilst  Tom  Adams,  who  acted  as  her  escort,  marched  behind 


88  "NANCY  PANSY:' 


her  with  a  large  basketful  besides.  She  did  not  have  room 
to  take  Harry,  so  she  left  her  behind,  on  the  assurance  of 
Tom  that  she  should  be  mended,  and  on  the  engagement  of 
the  entire  company  to  take  care  of  her.  The  soldiers  fol- 
lowed her  to  the  edge  of  the  camp,  and  exacted  from  her  a 
promise  to  come  again  next  day,  which  she  agreed  to  do  if 
her  mother  would  let  her.  And  when  she  was  out  of  sight, 
the  whole  command  held  a  council  of  war  over  the  fragments 
of  Harry. 

When  Adams  reached  the  Judge's  gate  he  made  a  negro 
who  was  passing  take  the  basket  in,  thinking  it  better  not  to 
go  himself  up  to  the  house.  He  said  good-by,  and  Nancy 
Pansy  started  up  the  walk,  whilst  he  waited  at  the  gate. 
Suddenly  she  turned  and  came  back. 

"  Good-by!"  she  said,  standing  on  tiptoe,  and  putting  up 
her  little  face  to  be  kissed. 

The  young  officer  stooped  over  the  gate  and  kissed  her. 

"Good-by!     Come  again  to-morrow." 

"Yes,  if  mamma  will  let  me."  And  she  tripped  away 
with  her  armful  of  presents. 

Tom  Adams  remained  leaning  on  the  gate.  He  was 
thinking  of  his  home  far  away.  Suddenly  he  was  aroused  by 
hearing  the  astonished  exclamations  in  the  house  as  Nancy 
Pansy  entered.  He  felt  sure  that  they  were  insisting  that 
the  things  should  be  sent  back,  and  fearing  that  he  mieht  be 
seen,  he  left  the  spot  and  went  slowly  back  to  camp,  where 
he  found   the  soldiers  still   in  a  state  of  pleasurable   excite- 


"NAXCY  PANSY."  S9 


ment  over  Nancy  Pansy's  visit.  A  collection  was  taken  up 
for  a  purpose  which  appeared  to  interest  everybody,  and  a 
cap  nearly  full  of  money  was  delivered  to  Tom  Adams,  with 
as  many  directions  as  to  what  he  was  to  do  with  it  as  though 
it  were  to  get  a  memorial  for  the  Commander-in-chief.  Tom 
said  he  had  already  determined  to  do  the  very  same  thing 
himself;  still,  if  the  company  wished  to  "go  in"  with  him, 
they  could  do  it;  so  he  agreed  to  take  the  money. 


V. 

ON  the  day  following  Nancy  Pansy's  visit  to  the  camp 
of  the  Baby  Veterans,  Adams  took  to  the  post-office 
a  bundle  addressed  to  "  Nancy  Pansy,"  and  a  letter 
addressed  to  a  friend  of  his  who  was  in  Washington.  The 
bundle  contained  "  Harry,"  as  fully  restored  as  her  shattered 
state  would  admit  of ;  the  letter  contained  a  draft  and  a 
commission,  the  importance  of  which  latter  Captain  Adams 
had  put  in  the  very  strongest  light. 

He  held  his  head  very  high  as  he  dropped  his  letter  into 
the  box,  for  over  the  table  bent  the  slender  figure  of  the 
little  dark-eyed  postmistress,  who  had  wiped  her  dainty 
fingers  so  carefully  after  handling  his  letter.  Perched  near 
her  on  the  table,  just  as  she  had  been  that  day,  with  her 
tangled  hair  all  over  her  face,  was  Nancy  Pansy.  She  was, 
as  usual,  very  busy  over  something  ;  but,  hearing  a  step,  she 
glanced  up. 

"  Oh,  there's  Tom  Adams  !"  she  exclaimed  ;  and,  turning 
over  on  her  face,  she  slipped  down  from  the  table  and  ran 
up  to  him,  putting  up  her  face  to  be  kissed,  just  as  she 
always  did  to  the  old  doctor. 

Adams  stooped  over  and  kissed  her,  though,  as  he  did 


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NANCY  PANSY."  93 


so,  he  heard  her  sister  turn  around,  and  he  felt  as  if  she 
might  be  going  to  shoot  him  in  the  back.  He  straightened 
up  with  defiance  in  his  heart.  She  was  facing  him  ;  but 
what  was  his  astonishment  when  she  advanced,  and  with  a 
little  smile  on  her  lovely  face,   said  : 

"  Captain  Adams,  I  am  Miss  Seddon.  My  mother  has 
desired  me  to  thank  you  in  her  name,  and  in  all  our  names, 
for  your  act  of  protection  to  my  little  sister  on  yesterday." 

"  Yes,"  said  Nancy  Pansy ;  "  he  jus'  knocked  that  bad 
man  down,"  and  she  gave  her  little  head  a  nod  of  satisfac- 
tion to  one  side. 

The  young  officer  blushed  to  his  eyes.  He  was  prepared 
for  an  attack,  but  not  for  such  a  flank  movement.  He  stam- 
mered something  about  not  having  done  anything  at  all 
worthy  of  thanks,  and  fell  back  behind  Harry,  whom  he  sud- 
denly pulled  out  and  placed  in  Nancy  Pansy's  hands.  It  all 
ended  in  an  invitation  from  Mrs.  Seddon,  through  Nancy 
Pansy  and  her  pretty  sister,  to  come  up  to  the  house  and  be 
thanked,  which  he  accepted. 

After  this  the  Baby  Veterans  and  Middleburgh  came 
to  understand  each  other  a  good  deal  better  than  before. 
Instead  of  remaining  in  their  camp  or  marching  up  and 
down  the  streets,  with  arrogance  or  defiance  stamped  on 
every  face  and  speaking  from  every  figure,  the  Baby  Vet- 
erans took  to  loafing  about  town  in  off-duty  hours,  hang- 
ing- over  the  eates,  or  saunterinsf  in  the  autumn  twilight 
up   and    down    the    quiet    walks.       They    and    Middleburgh 


94  "NANCY  PANSY: 


still  recognized  that  there  was  a  broad  ground,  on  which 
neither  could  trespass.  The  Baby  Veterans  still  sang  "The 
Star-spangled  Banner"  in  the  Court-house  Grove,  and 
Middleburoh  still  sany-  "Dixie"  and  the  "Bonnie  Blue 
Flag "  behind  her  rose  trellises  ;  but  there  was  no  more 
gathering  up  of  skirts,  and  disdainful  wiping  of  hands  after 
handling  letters  ;  and  the  old  doctor  was  allowed  to  go 
jogging  about  on  his  rounds,  with  Nancy  Pansy  and  the 
scarred  Harry  at  his  side,  as  unmolested  as  if  the  Baby 
Veterans  had  never  pitched  their  tents  on  the  Court-house 
Square.  It  is  barely  possible  that  even  the  rigid  invest- 
ment of  the  town  relaxed  a  little  as  the  autumn  changed 
into  winter,  for  once  or  twice  old  Limpid  disappeared  for 
several  days,  as  he  used  to  do  before  his  arrest,  and  Nancy 
Pansy's  pretty  sister  used  to  get  letters  from  Harry,  who 
was  now  a  major.  Nancy  Pansy  heard  whispers  of  Harry's 
coming  before  long,  and  even  of  the  whole  army's  coming. 
Somehow  a  rumor  of  this  must  have  reached  the  authori- 
ties, though  Nancy  Pans}'  never  breathed  a  word  of  it  ;  for 
an  officer  was  sent  down  to  investigate  the  matter  and 
report  immediately. 

Just  as  he  arrived  he  received  secret  word  from  some  one 
that  a  rebel  officer  was  actually  in  Middleburgh. 

That  afternoon  Nancy  Pansy  was  playing  in  the  bottom 
of  the  yard  when  a  lot  of  soldiers  came  along  the  street, 
and  before  them  rode  a  strange,  cross-looking;  man  with  a 
beard.      Tom    Adams  was  marching  with  the  soldiers,   and 


"NAACY  PANSY."  95 


he  did  not  look  at  all  pleased.  They  stopped  at  the  old 
doctor's  gate,  and  the  strange  man  trotted  up  to  her  place 
and  asked  Nancy  Pansy  if  she  knew  Captain  Harry  Hunter. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Nancy  Pansy,  going  up  to  the  fence 
and  poking  her  little  rosy  face  over  it  ;  "  Harry's  a  major 
now." 

"  Ah  !  Harry's  a  major  now,  is  he  ? "  said  the  strange 
man. 

Nancy  Pansy  went  on  to  tell  him  how  her  Harry  was 
named  after  the  other  Harry,  and  how  she  was  all  broken 
now  ;  but  the  officer  was  intent  on  something    else. 

"  Where  is  Harry  now?"  he  asked  her. 

"  In  the  house,"  and  she  waved  her  hand  toward  the 
old  doctor's  house  behind  her. 

"  So,  so,"  said  the  officer,  and  went  back  to  Tom  Adams, 
who  looked  annoyed,  and  said  : 

"  I  don't  believe  it;  there's  some  mistake." 

At  this  the  strange  man  got  angry  and  said  :  "  Lieuten- 
ant Adams,  if  you  don't  want  the  rebel  caught,  you  can  go 
back  to  camp." 

My!  how  angry  Tom  was  !  His  face  got  perfectly  white, 
and  he  said  :  "  Major  Black,  you  are  my  superior,  or  you 
wouldn't  dare  to  speak  so  to  me.  I  have  nothing  to  say 
now,  but  some  day  I'll  out-rank  you." 

Nancy  Pansy  did  not  know  what  they  were  talking 
about,  but  she  did  not  like  the  strange  man  at  all  ;  so 
when    he    asked   her:     "Won't   you   show  me  where   Harry 


96  "NANCY  PANSY." 


is?"  at  first  she  said  "No,"  and  then  "Yes,  if  you  won't 
hurt  him." 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  the  man.  As  Tom  Adams  was  there 
she  was  not  afraid  ;  so  she  went  outside  the  grate  and  on 
into  the  old  doctor's  yard,  followed  by  the  soldiers  and  Tom 
Adams,  who  still  looked  angry,  and  told  her  she'd  better  run 
home.      Some  of  the  soldiers  went  around  behind  the  house. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  the  strange  gentleman  asked. 

"  Asleep  up-stairs  in  the  company-room,"  said  Nancy 
Pansy  in  a  whisper.      "You  mustn't  make  any  noise." 

She  opened  the  door  and  they  entered  the  house,  Nancy 
Pansy  on  tiptoe  and  the  others  stepping  softly.  She  was 
surprised  to  see  the  strange  man  draw  a  pistol  ;  but  she 
was  used  to  seeing  pistols,  so,  though  Tom  Adams  told  her 
again  to  run  home,  she  stayed  there. 

"Which  is  the  company-room?"  asked  the  strange  man. 

She  pointed  to  the  door  at  the  head  of  the  steps. 
"  That's  it." 

He  turned  to  the  soldiers. 

"  Come  ahead,  men,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  and  ran 
lightly  up  the  stairs,  looking  very  fierce.  When  he  reached 
the  door  he  seized  the  knob  and  dashed  into  the  room. 

Then  Nancy  Pansy  heard  him  say  some  naughty  words, 
and  she  ran  up  the  stairs  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 

They  were  all  standing  around  the  big  bed  on  which 
she  had  laid  Harry  an  hour  before,  with  her  head  on  a 
pillow  ;    but   a  jerk   of  the  counterpane  had  thrown    Harry 


NANCY  PANSY:  97 


over  on  her  face,  and  her  broken  neck  and  ear  looked  very 
bad. 

"  Oh,  you've  waked  her  up  !  "  cried  Nancy  Pansy,  rush- 
ing- forward,  and  turning  the  doll  over. 

The  strange  man  stamped  out  of  the  room,  looking  per- 
fectly furious,  and  the  soldiers  all  laughed.  Tom  Adams 
looked  pleased. 

7 


VI. 


WHEN  Tom  Adams  next  called  at  the  Judge's,  he 
found  the  atmosphere  much  cooler  within  the 
house  than  it  was  outside.  He  had  been  waiting 
alone  in  the  drawing-room  for  some  time  when  Nancy  Pansy 
entered.  She  came  in  very  slowly,  and  instead  of  running 
immediately  up  to  him  and  greeting  him  as  she  usually  did, 
she  seated  herself  on  the  edge  of  a  chair  and  looked  at  him 
with  manifest  suspicion.      He  stretched  out  his  hand  to  her. 

"  Come  over,  Nancy  Pansy,  and  sit  on  my  knee." 

Nancy  Pansy  shook  her  head. 

"  My  sister  don't  like  you,"  she  said  slowly,  eying  him 
askance. 

"  Ah  !  "      He  let  his  hand  fall  on  the  arm  of  the  chair. 

"  No  ;  and  I  don't,  either,"  said  Nancy  Pansy,  more 
confidently. 

"  Why  doesn't  she  like  me  ?"  asked  Tom  Adams. 

"  Because  you  are  so  mean.  She  says  you  are  just  like 
all  the  rest  of  'em  ;  "  and,  pleased  at  her  visitor's  interest, 
■Nancy  Pansy  wriggled  herself  higher  up  on  her  chair,  pre- 
pared to  give  him  further  details. 

"  We  don't  like   you  at    all,"   said    the   child,   half   conn- 


"NANCY  PANSY: 


99 


dentially  and  half  defiantly.  "  We  like  our  side  ;  we  like 
Confederates."  Tom  Adams  smiled.  "  We  like  Harry  ;  we 
don't  like  you." 

She  looked  as  defiant  as  possible,  and  just  then  a  step 
was  heard  in  the  hall,  approaching  very  slowly,  and  Nancy 
Pansy's  sister  appeared  in  the  doorway.  She  was  dressed 
in  white,  and  she  carried  her  head  even  higher  than  usual. 

The  visitor  rose.  He  thought  he  had  never  seen  her 
look  so  pretty. 

"  Good-evening,"  he  said. 

She  bowed  "  Good-evening,"  very  slowly,  and  took  a  seat 
on  a  straight-backed  chair  in  a  corner  of  the  room,  ignoring 
the  chair  which  Adams  offered  her. 

"  I  have  not  seen  you  for  some  time,"  he  began. 

"  No  ;  I  suppose  you  have  been  busy  searching  people's 
houses,"  she  said. 

Tom  Adams  flushed  a  little. 

"  I  carry  out  my  orders,"  he  said.  "  These  I  must 
enforce." 

"Ah!" 

Nancy  Pansy  did  not  just  understand  it  all,  but  she 
saw  there  was  a  battle  going  on,  and  she  at  once  aligned 
herself  with  her  side,  and  going  over,  stood  by  her  sister's 
chair,  and  looked  defiance  at  the  enemy. 

"  Well,  we  shall  hardly  agree  about  this,  so  we  won't 
discuss  it,"  said  Tom  Adams.  "  I  did  not  come  to  talk 
about  this,  but  to  see  you,  and  to  get  you  to  sing  for  me." 


"NANCY  PANSY: 


Refusal   spoke   so    plainly   in   her  face  that  he  added  :   "  Or, 
if  you  won't  sing,  to.  get  Nancy  Pansy  to  sing  for  me." 

"/won't  sing  for  you,"  declared  Nancy  Pansy,  promptly 
and  decisively. 

"  What  incorrigible  rebels  all  of  you  are  !"  said  Tom 
Adams,  smiling.  He  was  once  more  at  his  ease,  and  he 
pulled  his  chair  up  nearer  Nancy  Pansy's  sister,  and  caught 
Nancy  Pansy  by  the  hand.  She  was  just  trying  to  pull 
away,  when  there  were  steps  on  the  walk  outside — the 
regular  tramp,  tramp  of  soldiers  marching  in  some  num- 
bers. They  came  up  to  the  house,  and  some  order  was 
given  in  a  low  tone.  Both  Adams  and  Nancy  Pansy's 
sister  sprang  to  their  feet. 

"What  can  it  mean  ?"  asked  Nancy  Pansy's  sister,  more 
to  herself  than  to  Adams. 

He  went  into  the  hall  just  as  there  was  a  loud  rap  at 
the  front  door. 

"What  is  it  ?"   he  asked  the  lieutenant  who  stood  there. 

"  Some  one  has  slipped  through  the  lines,  and  is  in  this 
house,"  he  said. 

Nancy  Pansy's  sister  stepped   out  into  the  hall. 
"  There  is  no  one   here,"  she  said.      She  looked   at   Tom 
Adams.      "  I    give   my   word   there    is    no   one    in  the   house 
except   my   mother,  ourselves,  and   the  servants."      She   met 
Tom  Adams's  gaze  frankly  as  he  looked  into  her  eyes. 

"  There  is  no  one  here,  Hector,"  he  said,  turning  to  the 
officer. 


■NANCY  PANSY." 


"  This  is  a  serious  matter,"  began  the  other,  hesitatingly. 
"  We  have  eood  grounds  to  believe " 

"  I  will  be  responsible,"  said  Tom  Adams,  firmly.  "  I 
have  been  here  some  time,  and  there  is  no  one  here."  He 
took  the  officer  aside  and  talked  to  him  a  moment. 

"  All  right,"  said  he,  as  he  went  down  the  steps,  "  as  you 
are  so  positive." 

"  I  am,"  said  Tom. 

The  soldiers  marched  down  the  walk,  out  of  the  gate, 
and  around  the  corner.  Just  as  the  sound  of  their  foot- 
steps died  away  on  the  soft  road,  Tom  Adams  turned  and 
faced  Nancy  Pansy's  sister.  She  was  leaning  against  a  pil- 
lar, looking  down,  and  a  little  moonlight  sifted  through  the 
rose-bushes  and  fell  on  her  neck.  Nancy  Pansy  had  gone 
into  the  house.  "  I  am  sorry  I  said  what  I  did  in  the  parlor 
just  now."     She  looked  up  at  him. 

"  Oh !  "  said  Tom  Adams,  and  moved  his  hand  a  little. 
"  I — "  he  began  ;  but  just  then  there  was  a  sudden  scamper 
in  the  hall,  and  Nancy  Pansy,  with  flying  hair  and  dancing 
eyes,  came  rushing  out  on  the  portico. 

"Oh,  sister!"  she  panted.  "Harry's  come;  he's  in 
mamma's  room  !  " 

Nancy  Pansy's  sister  turned  deadly  white.  "  Oh,  Nancy 
Pansy  !  "  she  gasped,  placing  her  hand  over  her  mouth. 

Nancy  Pansy  burst  into  tears,  and  buried  her  face  in 
her  sister's  dress.  She  had  not  seen  Tom  Adams  ;  she 
thought  he  had  gone. 


io2  "NANCY  PANSY." 


"  I  did  not  know  it,"  said  Nancy  Pansy's  sister,  turning 
and  facing  Tom  Adams's  stern  gaze. 

"  I  believe  you,"  he  said,  slowly.  He  felt  at  his  side  ; 
but  he  was  in  a  fatigue  suit,  and  had  no  arms.  Without  fin- 
ishing his  sentence  he  sprang  over  the  railing,  and  with  a  long, 
swift  stride  went  down  the  yard.  She  dimly  saw  him  as  he 
sprang  over  the  fence,  and  heard  him  call,  "  Oh,  Hector  ! " 

As  he  did  so,  she  rushed  into  the  house.  "  Fly  !  they 
are  coming  !  "  she  cried,  bursting  into  her  mother's  room. 
"  Oh,  Harry,  they  are  coming  !  "  she  cried,  rushing  up  to  a 
handsome  young  fellow,  who  sprang  to  his  feet  as  she 
entered,  and  went  forward  to  meet  her. 

The  young  man  took  her  hand  and  drew  her  to  him. 
"  Well,"  he  said,  looking  down  into  her  eyes,  and  drawing  a 
long  breath. 

Nancy  Pansy's  sister  put  her  face  on  his  shoulder  and 
began  to  cry,  and  Nancy  Pansy  rushed  into  her  mother's 
arms  and  cried  too. 

Ten  minutes  later  soldiers  came  in  both  at  the  front 
and  back  doors.  Mrs.  Seddon  met  her  visitors  in  the  hall. 
Nancy  Pansy's  sister  was  on  one  side,  and  Nancy  Pansy 
on  the  other. 

Tom  Adams  was  in  command.  He  removed  his  hat, 
but  said,  gravely :  "  I  must  arrest  the  young  rebel  officer 
who  is  here." 

Nancy  Pansy  made  a  movement  ;  but  her  mother  tight- 
ened her  clasp  of  her  hand. 


NANCY  PANSY."  103 


"  Yes,"  she  said,  bowing.      That  was  all. 

Guards  were  left  at  the  doors,  and  soldiers  went  through 
the  house.  The  search  was  thorough,  but  the  game  had 
escaped.  They  were  coming  down  the  steps  when  some 
one  said  : 

"  We  must  search  the  shrubbery  ;    he  will  be  there." 

"  No ;  he  is  at  his  father's — the  old  doctor's,"  said 
Adams. 

It  was  said  in  an  undertone,  but  Mrs.  Seddon's  face 
whitened  ;  Nancy  Pansy  caught  it,  too.  She  clutched  her 
mother's  gown. 

"  Oh,  mamma  !  you  hear  what  he  says  ?  " 

Her  mother  stooped  and  whispered  to  her. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  nodded  Nancy  Pansy.  She  ran  to  the  door, 
and  poking  her  little  head  out,  looked  up  and  down  the  por- 
tico, calling,  "  Kitty,  kitty  !" 

The  sentry  who  was  standing  there  holding  his  gun 
moved  a  little,  and,  leaning  out,  peered  into  the  dusk. 

"  'Tain't  out  here,"  he  said,  in  a  friendly  tone. 

Nancy  Pansy  slipped  past  him,  and  went  down  the  steps 
and  around  the  portico,  still  calling,  "  Kitty  !   Kitty  !  Kitty  !" 

"  Who  goes  there  ?  "  called  a  soldier,  as  he  saw  some- 
thing move  over  near  the  old  doctor's  fence  ;  but  when  he 
heard  a  childish  voice  call,  "  Kitty !  Kitty  ! "  he  dropped 
his  gun  again  with  a  laugh.  "'Tain't  nobody  but  that 
little  gal,  Nancy  Pansy  ;  blest  if  I  wa'n't  about  to  shoot 
her!" 


io4  "NANCY  PANSY.' 


The  next  instant  Nancy  Pansy  had  slipped  through  her 
little  hole  in  the  fence,  through  which  she  had  so  often 
gone,  and  was  in  the  old  doctor's  yard  ;  and  when,  five  min- 
utes afterward,  Tom  Adams  marched  his  men  up  the  walk 
and  surrounded  and  entered  the  house,  Nancy  Pansy,  her 
broken  doll  in  her  arms,  was  sitting  demurely  on  the  edge 
of  a  large  chair,  looking  at  him  with  great,  wide-open,  danc- 
ing eyes.  A  little  princess  could  not  have  been  grander, 
and  if  she  had  hidden  Harry  Hunter  behind  her  chair,  she 
could  not  have  shown  more  plainly  that  she  had  given 
him  warning. 


VII. 


ALL  Middleburgh  knew  next  day  how  Nancy  Pansy 
had  saved  Harry  Hunter,  and  it  was  still  talking 
about  it,  when  it  was  one  morning  astonished  by 
the  news  that  old  Dr.  Hunter  had  been  arrested  in  the 
night  by  the  soldiers,  who  had  come  down  from  Washing- 
ton, and  had  been  carried  off  somewhere.  There  had  not 
been  such  excitement  since  the  Middleburgh  Artillery  had 
marched  away  to  the  war.  The  old  doctor  was  sacred. 
Why,  to  carry  him  off,  and  stop  his  old  buggy  rattling 
about  the  streets,  was,  in  Middleburgh's  eyes,  like  stopping 
the  chariot  of  the  sun,  or  turning  the  stars  out  of  their 
courses.  Why  did  they  not  arrest  Nancy  Pansy  too  ? 
asked  Middleburgh.  Nancy  Pansy  cried  all  day,  and  many 
times  after,  whenever  she  thought  about  it.  She  went  to 
Tom  Adams's  camp  and  begged  him  to  bring  her  old  doc- 
tor back,  and  Tom  Adams  said  as  he  had  not  had  him 
arrested  he  could  not  tell  what  he  could  do,  but  he  would 
do  all  he  could.  Then  she  wrote  the  old  doctor  a  letter. 
However,  all  Middleburgh  would  not  accept  Tom  Adams's 
statement  as  Nancy  Pansy  did,  and  instead  of  holding  him 
as    a    favorite,    it    used    to    speak    of    him    as    "  That    Tom 


io6  "NANCY  PANSY.1 


Adams."  Every  old  woman  in  Middleburgh  declared  she 
was  worse  than  she  had  been  in  ten  years,  and  old  Mrs. 
Hippin  took  to  her  crutch,  which  she  had  not  used  in  twelve 
months,  and  told  Nancy  Pansy's  sister  she  would  die  in  a 
week  unless  she  could  hear  the  old  doctor's  buggy  rattle 
again.  But  when  the  fever  broke  out  in  the  little  low 
houses  down  on  the  river,  things  began  to  look  very  seri- 
ous. The  surgeon  from  the  camp  went  to  see  the  patients, 
but  they  died,  and  more  were  taken  ill.  When  a  number 
of  other  cases  occurred  in  the  town  itself,  all  of  the  most 
malignant  type,  the  surgeon  admitted  that  it  was  a  form 
of  fever  with  which  he  was  not  familiar.  There  had  never 
been  such  an  epidemic  in  Middleburgh  before,  and  Middle- 
burgh  said  that  it  was  all  due  to  the  old  doctor's  absence. 

One  day  Nancy  Pansy  went  to  the  camp,  to  ask  about  the 
old  doctor,  and  saw  a  man  sitting  astride  of  a  fence  rail  which 
was  laid  on  two  posts  high  up  from  the  ground.  He  had  a 
stone  tied  to  each  foot,  and  he  was  groaning.  She  looked  up 
at  him,  and  saw  that  it  was  the  man  who  had  broken  her 
doll.  She  was  about  to  run  away,  but  he  groaned  so  she 
thought  he  must  be  in  great  pain,  and  that  always  hurt  her  ; 
so  she  went  closer,  and  asked  him  what  was  the  matter.  She 
did  not  understand  just  what  he  said,  but  it  was  something 
about  the  weight  on  his  feet  ;  so  she  first  tried  to  untie 
the  strings  which  held  the  stones,  and  then,  as  there  was  a 
barrel  standing  by,  she  pushed  at  it  until  she  got  it  up  close 
under  him,  and  told   him  to  rest  his   feet  on  that,  whilst  she 


NANCY  PANSYS  107 


ran  home  and  asked  her  mamma  to  lend  her  her  scissors. 
In  pushing  the  barrel  she  broke  Harry's  head  in  pieces  ; 
but  she  was  so  busy  she  did  not  mind  it  then.  Just  as  she 
got  the  barrel  in  place  some  one  called  her,  and  turning 
around  she  saw  a  sentinel  ;  he  told  her  to  go  away,  and  he 
kicked  the  barrel  from  under  the  man  and  let  the  stones 
drop  down  and  jerk  his  ankles  again.  Nancy  Pansy  began 
to  cry,  and  ran  off  up  to  Tom  Adams's  tent  and  told  him 
all  about  it,  and  how  the  poor  man  was  groaning.  Tom 
Adams  tried  to  explain  that  this  man  had  got  drunk,  and 
that  he  was  a  bad  man,  and  was  the  same  one  who  had 
broken  her  doll.  It  had  no  effect.  "  Oh,  but  it  hurts  him 
so  bad  !  "  said  Nancy  Pansy,  and  she  cried  until  Tom 
Adams  called  a  man  and  told  him  he  might  go  and  le.t 
O'Meara  down,  and  tell  him  that  the  little  girl  had  begged 
him  off  this  time.  Nancy  Pansy,  however,  ran  herself,  and 
called  to  him  that  Tom  Adams  said  he  might  get  down. 
When  he  was  on  the  ground,  he  walked  up  to  her  and  said  : 

"  May  the  Holy  Virgin  kape  you  !  Griff  O'Meara'll 
never  forgit  you." 

A  few  days  after  that  Nancy  Pansy  complained  of  head- 
ache, and  her  mother  kept  her  in  the  house.  That  even- 
ing- her  face  was  flushed,  and  she  had  a  fever ;  so  her 
mother  put  her  to  bed  and  sat  by  her.  She  went  to  sleep, 
but  waked  in  the  night,  talking  very  fast.  She  had  a  burn- 
ing fever,  and  was  quite  out  of  her  head.  Mrs.  Seddon 
sent  for  the  surgeon  next  morning,  and  he  came  and  stayed 


10S  "NANCY  PANSY." 


some  time.  When  he  returned  to  camp  he  went  to  Tom 
Adams's  tent.  He  looked  so  grave  as  he  came  in  that 
Adams  asked  quickly  : 

"  Any  fresh  cases  ?  " 

"  Not  in  camp."      He  sat  down. 

"  Where  ?  " 

"  That  little  girl — Nancy  Pansy." 

Tom  Adams's  face  turned  whiter  than  it  had  ever  turned 
in  battle. 

"  Is  she  ill  ?  " 

"  Desperately." 

Tom  Adams  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  How  long — how  long  can  she  hold  out  ?"  he  asked,  in 
a  broken  voice. 

"  Twenty-four  hours,  perhaps,"  said  the  surgeon. 

Tom  Adams  put  on  his  cap  and  left  the  tent.  Five 
minutes  later  he  was  in  the  hall  at  the  Judge's.  Just  as 
he  entered,  Nancy  Pansy's  sister  came  quickly  out  of  a 
door.      She  had  been  crying. 

"  How  is  she  ?  I  have  just  this  instant  heard  of  it," 
said  Tom,  with  real  grief  in  his  voice. 

She  put  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 

"  So  ill,"  she  sobbed. 

"  Can  I  see  her  ?"  asked  Tom,  gently. 

"  Yes  ;   it  won't  hurt  her." 

When  Tom  Adams  entered  the  room  he  was  so  shocked 
that  he  stopped  still.      Mrs.  Seddon   bent  over  the  bed  with 


■NANCY  PANSY."  109 


her  face  pale  and  worn,  and  in  the  bed  lay  Nancy  Pansy, 
so  changed  that  Tom  Adams  never  would  have  known 
her.  She  had  fallen  off  so  in  that  short  time  that  he 
would  not  have  recognized  her.  Her  face  was  perfectly 
white,  except  two  bright  red  spots  on  her  cheeks.  She 
was  drawing  short,  quick  breaths,  and  was  talking  all  the 
time  very  fast.  No  one  could  understand  just  what  she 
was  saying,  but  a  good  deal  of  it  was  about  Harry  and 
the  old  doctor.  Tom  bent  over  her,  but  she  did  not  know 
him  ;  she  just  went  on  talking  faster  than  ever. 

"  Nancy  Pansy,  don't  you  know  Tom  Adams  ? "  her 
mother  asked  her,  in  a  soothing  voice.  She  had  never 
called  the  young  man  so  before,  and  he  felt  that  it  gave 
him  a  place  with  Nancy  Pansy;  but  the  child  did  not  know 
him  ;  she  said  something  about  not  having  any  Harry. 

"  She  is  growing  weaker,"  said  her  mother. 

Tom  Adams  leaned  over  and  kissed  the  child,  and  left 
the  room. 

As  he  came  down  the  steps  he  met  Griff  O'Meara,  who 
asked  how  the  "  little  gurl  "  was,  "  bless  her  sowl  !  "  When 
he  told  him,  Griff  turned  away  and  wiped  his  eyes  with 
the  back  of  his  hand.  Tom  Adams  told  him  to  stay  there 
and  act  as  guard,  which  Griff  vowed  he'd  do  if  the  "  howl 
ribel  army  kem." 

Ten  minutes  later  Tom  galloped  out  of  camp  with  a 
paper  in  his  pocket  signed  by  the  surgeon.  In  an  hour  he 
had   covered   the   twelve   miles   of    mud   which    lay   between 


•NANCY  PANSY." 


Middleburgh    and    the    nearest   telegraph    station,    and    was 

sending  a  message  to   General ,  his  commander.      At 

last  an  answer  came.      Tom  Adams  read  it. 

"  Tell  him  it  is  a  matter  of  life  and  death,"  he  said  to 
the  operator.  "Tell  him  there  is  no  one  else  who  under- 
stands it  and  can  check  it,  and  tell  him  it  must  be  done 
before  the  afternoon  train  leaves,  or  it  will  be  too  late. 
Here,  I'll  write  it  out."  And  he  did  so,  putting  all  his 
eloquence   into  the  despatch. 

Late  that  night  two  men  galloped  through  the  mud 
and  slush  in  the  direction  of  Middleburgh.  The  younger 
one  had  a  large  box  before  him  on  his  horse  ;  the  other 
was  quite  an  old  man.  Picket  after  picket  was  passed 
with  a  word  spoken  by  the  younger  man,  and  they  gal- 
loped on.  At  last  they  stopped  at  the  Judge's  gate,  and 
sprang  from  their  splashed  and  smoking  horses. 

As  they  hurried  up  the  walk,  the  guard  at  the  steps  chal- 


lenged them  in  a  rich  Irish  brogue. 

"  It's  I,  O'Meara.      You  here  still  ?     How  is  she  ?  " 

"'Most  in  the  Holv  Virgin's  arms,"  said  the  Irishman. 

"Is  she  alive  ?  "  asked  both  men. 

"  It's  a  docther  can  tell  that,"  said  the  sentinel.  "  They 
thought  her  crone  an  hour  aeo.  There's  several  in  there,"  he 
said  to  his  captain.  "  I  didn't  let  'em  in  at  firrst,  but  the 
young  leddy  said  they  wuz  the  frien's  of  the  little  gurl,  an'  I 
let  'em  by  a  bit." 

A  minute  later  the  old  man  entered  the  sick-room,  whilst 


■NANCY  PANSY." 


Tom  Adams  stopped  at  the  door  outside.  There  was  a  gen- 
eral cry  as  he  entered  of,  "  Oh,  doctor  !  " 

And  Mrs.  Seddon  called  him  :  "  Quick,  quick,  doctor  ! 
she's  dying  ! " 

"  She's  dead,"  said  one  of  the  ladies  who  stood  by. 

The  old  doctor  bent  over  the  little  still  white  form,  and 
his  countenance  fell.  She  was  not  breathing-.  With  one  hand 
he  picked  up  her  little  white  arm  and  felt  for  the  pulse  ;  with 
the  other  he  took  a  small  case  from  his  pocket.  "  Brandy," 
he  said.  It  was  quickly  handed  him.  He  poured  some  into  a 
little  syringe,  and  stuck  it  into  Nancy  Pansy's  arm,  by  turns 
holding  her  wrist  and  feeling  over  her  heart. 

Presently  he  said,  quietly,  "  She's  living,"  and  both  Mrs. 
Seddon  and  Nancy  Pansy's  sister  said,  "  Thank  God  !  " 

All  night  long  the  old  doctor  worked  over  Nancy  Pansy. 
Just  before  dawn  he  said  to  Mrs.  Seddon:  "What  day  is 
this?" 

"  Christmas  morning,"  said  Mrs.  Seddon. 

"Well,  madam,  I  hope  God  has  answered  your  prayers, 
and  given  your  babe  back  to  you  ;  I  hope  the  crisis  is  passed. 
Have  you  hung  up  her  stocking?" 

"  No,"  said  Nancy  Pansy's  mother.  "  She  was  so — " 
She  could  not  say  anything  more.  Presently  she  added : 
"She  was  all  the  time  talking  about  you   and   Harry." 

The  old  doctor  rose  and  went  out  of  the  room.  It  was 
about  dawn.  He  left  the  house,  and  went  over  to  his  own 
home.      There,  after  some  difficulty,  he  got  in,  and  went  to 


NANCY  PANSY." 


his  office.  His  old  secretary  had  been  opened  and  papers 
taken  out,  but  the  old  man  did  not  seem  to  mind  it.  Pulling 
the  secretary  out  from  the  wall,  he  touched  a  secret  spring. 
It  did  not  work  at  first,  but  after  a  while  it  moved,  and  he 
put  his  hand  under  it,  and  pulled  out  a  secret  drawer.  In  it 
were  a  number  of  small  parcels  carefully  tied  up  with  pieces 
of  ribbon,  which  were  now  quite  faded,  and  from  one  peeped 
a  curl  of  soft  brown  hair,  like  that  of  a  little  girl.  The  old 
doctor  laid  his  fingers  softly  on  it,  and  his  old  face  wore  a 
gentle  look.  The  largest  bundle  was  wrapped  in  oil-silk. 
This  he  took  out  and  carefully  unwrapped.  Inside  was  yet 
another  wrapping  of  tissue  paper.  He  put  the  bundle,  with 
a  sigh,  into  his  overcoat  pocket,  and  went  slowly  back  to  the 
Judge's.      Nancy  Pansy  was  still  sleeping  quietly. 

The  old  doctor  asked  for  a  stocking  and  it  was  brought 
him.  He  took  the  bundle  from  his  pocket,  and,  unwrapping 
it,  held  it  up.  It  was  a  beautiful  doll,  with  yellow  hair  done 
up  with  little  tucking  combs  such  as  ladies  used  to  wear,  and 
with  a  lovely  little  old  tiny-flowered  silk  dress. 

"  She  is  thirty  years  old,  madam,"  he  said  gently  to  Mrs. 
Seddon,  as  he  slipped  the  doll  into  the  stocking,  and  hung  it 
on  the  bed-post.  "  I  have  kept  her  for  thirty  years,  think- 
ing I  could  never  give  it  to  any  one  ;  but  last  night  I  knew 
I  loved  Nancy  Pansy  enough  to  give  it  to  her."  He  leaned 
over  and  felt  her  pulse.      "  She  is  sleeping  well,"  he  said. 

Just  then  the  door  opened,  and  in  tipped  Tom  Adams, 
followed  by  Griff  O'Meara  in   his    stocking    feet,  bearing  a 


■NANCY  PANSY."  113 


large  baby-house  fitted  up  like  a  perfect  palace,  with  every 
room  carpeted  and  furnished,  and  with  a  splendid  doll  sitting 
on  a  balcony. 

"  A  Christmas  gift  to  that  blessed  angel  from  the  Baby 
Veterans,  mem,"  he  said,  as  he  set  it  down  ;  and  then  taking 
from  his  bulging  pocket  a  large  red-cheeked  doll  in  a  green 
frock,  he  placed  it  in  the  door  of  the  house,  saying,  with  great 
pride  :  "  An'  this  from  Griff  O'Meara.  Heaven  bless  her 
swate  soul  !  " 

Just  then  Nancy  Pansy  stirred  and  opened  her  eyes.  Her 
mother  bent  over  her,  and  she  smiled  faintly.  Mrs.  Seddon 
slipped  down  on  her  knees. 

"Where's  my  old  doctor  and  my  dolly?"  she  said;  and 
then,  presently,  "  Where's  Harry  and  Tom  Adams  ?  " 


"JACK   AND   JAKE 


/  c    •>•> 


I. 


JACK  AND  JAKE."  This  is  what  they  used  to  be 
called.  Their  names  were  always  coupled  together. 
Wherever  you  saw  one,  you  were  very  apt  to  see  the 
other — Jack,  slender,  with  yellow  hair,  big  gray  eyes,  and 
spirited  look  ;  and  Jake,  thick-set  and  brown,  close  to  him, 
like  his  shadow,  with  his  shining  skin  and  white  teeth. 
They  were  always  in  sight  somewhere  ;  it  might  be  running 
about  the  yard  or  far  down  on  the  plantation,  or  it  might  be 
climbing  trees  to  look  into  birds'  nests — which  they  were 
forbidden  to  trouble — or  wadinsj  in  the  creek,  riding  in  the 
carts  or  wagons  about  the  fields,  or  following  the  furrow, 
waiting  a  chance  to  ride  a  plough-horse  home. 

Jake  belonged  to  Jack.  He  had  been  given  to  him  by 
his  old  master,  Jack's  grandfather,  when  Jack  was  only  a  few 
years  old,  and  from  that  time  the  two  boys  were  rarely  sepa- 
rated, except  at  night. 

Jake  was  a  little  larger  than  Jack,  as  he  was  somewhat 
older,  but  Jack  was  the  more  active.     Jake  was  dull  ;  some 


n6  "JACK  AND  JAKE." 

people  on  the  plantation  said  he  did  not  have  good  sense  ; 
but  they  rarely  ventured  to  say  so  twice  to  Jack.  Jack  said 
he  had  more  sense  than  any  man  on  the  place.  At  least,  he 
idolized  Jack. 

At  times  the  people  commented  on  the  white  boy  being 
so  much  with  the  black  ;  but  Jack's  father  said  it  was  as 
natural  for  them  to  run  together  as  for  two  calves — a  black 
one  and  a  white  one — when  they  were  turned  out  together  ; 
that  he  had  played  with  Uncle  Ralph,  the  butler,  when  they 
were  boys,  and  had  taught  the  latter  as  much  badness  as 
he  had  him. 

So  the  two  boys  grew  up  together  as  "  Jack  and  Jake," 
forming  a  friendship  which  prevented  either  of  them  ever 
knowing  that  Jake  was  a  slave,  and  brought  them  up  as 
friends  rather  than  as  master  and  servant. 

If  there  was  any  difference,  the  boys  thought  it  was 
rather  in  favor  of  Jake  ;  for  Jack  had  to  go  to  school,  and  sit 
for  some  hours  every  morning  "  saying  lessons"  to  his  aunt, 
and  had  to  look  out  (sometimes)  for  his  clothes,  while  Jake 
just  lounged  around  outside  the  school-room  door,  and  could 
do  as  he  pleased,  for  he  was  sure  to  get  Jack's  suit  as  soon  as 
it  had  become  too  much  worn  for  Jack. 

The  games  they  used  to  play  were  surprising.  Jack 
always  knew  of  some  interesting  thing  they  could  "  make 
'tence "  (that  is,  pretence)  that  they  were  doing.  They 
could  be  fishers  and  trappers,  of  course  ;  for  there  was  the 
creek    winding    down    the    meadow,   in  and   out   among;   the 


'JACK  AND   JAKE."  117 


heavy  willows  on  its  banks  ;  and  in  the  holes  under  the 
fences  and  by  the  shelving  rocks,  where  the  water  was  blue 
and  deep,  there  were  shining  minnows,  and  even  little  perch  ; 
and  they  could  be  lost  on  rafts,  for  there  was  the  pond,  and 
with  their  trousers  rolled  up  to  their  thighs  they  could  get 
on  planks  and  pole  themselves  about. 

But  the  best  fun  of  all  was  "  Injins."  Goodness  !  how 
much  fun  there  was  in  Injins  !  There  were  bows  and 
arrows,  and  tomahawks,  and  wigwams,  and  fires  in  the 
woods,  and  painted  faces,  and  creeping-ups,  and  scalpings, 
and  stealing  horses,  and  hot  pursuits,  and  hidings,  and  cap- 
tures, and  bringing  the  horses  back,  and  the  full  revenge 
and  triumph  that  are  clear  to  boys'  hearts.  Injins  was,  of 
all  plays,  the  best.  There  was  a  dear  old  wonderful  fellow 
named  Leatherstocking,  who  was  the  greatest  "Injin  "-hunter 
in  the  world.  Jack  knew  all  about  him.  He  had  a  book 
with  him  in  it,  and  he  read  it  and  told  Jake  ;  and  so  they 
played  Injins  whenever  they  wanted  real  fun.  It  was  a 
beautiful  place  for  Injins  ;  the  hills  rolled,  the  creeks  wound 
in  and  out  amongf  the  willows,  and  ran  through  thickets  into 
the  little  river,  and  the  woods  surrounded  the  plantation  on 
all  sides,  and  stretched  across  the  river  to  the  Mont  Air 
place,  so  that  the  boys  could  cross  over  and  play  on  the 
other  side  of  the  thick  woods. 

When  the  war  came,  Jack  was  almost  a  big  boy.  He 
thought  he  was  quite  one.  He  was  ten  years  old,  and  grew 
old  two  years  at  a  time.      His  father  went  off  with  the  army, 


n8  "JACK  AND   JAKE." 

and  left  his  mother  at  home  to  take  care  of  the  plantation 
and  the  children.  That  included  Ancy  and  wee  Martha  ; 
not  Jack,  of  course.  So  far  from  leaving  any  one  to  take 
care  of  Jack,  he  left  Jack  to  take  care  of  his  mother.  The 
morning  he  went  away  he  called  Jack  to  him  and  had  a  talk 
with  him.  He  told  him  he  wanted  him  to  mind  his  mother, 
and  look  out  for  her,  to  help  her  and  save  her  trouble,  to 
take  care  of  her  and  comfort  her,  and  defend  her  always  like 
a  man.  Jack  was  standing  right  in  front  of  him,  and  when 
the  talk  began  he  was  fidgety,  because  he  was  in  a  great 
hurry  to  go  to  the  stable  and  ride  his  father's  horse  Warrior 
to  the  house  ;  but  his  father  had  never  talked  to  him  so 
before,  and  as  he  proceeded,  Jack  became  grave,  and  when 
his  father  took  his  hand,  and,  looking  him  quietly  in  the 
eyes,  said,  "Will  you,  my  son?"  he  burst  out  crying,  and 
flung  his  arms  around  his  father's  neck,  and  said,  "  Yes, 
father,  I  will." 

He  did  not  go  out  of  the  house  any  more  then  ;  he  left 
the  horse  to  be  brought  down  by  Uncle  Henry,  the  carriage- 
driver,  and  he  sat  quietly  by  his  father,  and  kept  his  eyes 
on  him,  getting  him  anything  he  wanted  ;  and  he  waited  on 
his  mother  ;  and  when  his  father  went  away,  he  kissed  him, 
and  said  all  over  again  that  he  would  do  what  he  promised. 
And  when  his  mother  locked  herself  in  her  room  afterward, 
Jack  sat  on  the  front  porch  alone,  in  his  father's  chair,  and 
waited.  And  when  she  came  out  on  the  porch,  with  her 
eyes  red  from  weeping  and  her  face  worn,   he  did  not  say 


"JACK  AND  JAKE."  119 

anything,  but  quietly  went  and  got  her  a  glass  of  water. 
His  father's  talk  had  aged  him. 

For  the  first  two  years,  the  war  did  not  make  much 
difference  to  Jack  personally.  It  made  a  difference  to  the 
country,  and  to  the  people,  and  to  his  mother,  but  not  to 
Jack  individually,  though  it  made  a  marked  difference  in 
him.  It  made  him  older.  His  father's  words  never  were 
forgotten.  They  had  sobered  him  and  steadied  him.  He 
had  seen  a  good  deal  of  the  war.  The  troop  trains  passed 
up  the  railroad,  the  soldiers  cheering  and  shouting,  filling 
the  cars  and  crowding  on  top  of  them  ;  the  army,  or  parts 
of  it,  marched  through  the  country  by  the  county  roads, 
camping  in  the  woods  and  fields.  Many  soldiers  stopped 
at  Jack's  home,  where  open  house  was  kept,  and  everything 
was  gladly  given  to  them.  All  the  visitors  now  were  sol- 
diers. Jack  rode  the  gentlemen's  horses  to  water,  with  Jake 
behind  him,  if  there  was  but  one  (in  which  case  the  horse 
was  apt  to  get  several  waterings),  or  galloping  after  him,  if 
there  were  more.  They  were  hard  riders,  and  got  many 
falls,  for  the  young  officers  were  usually  well  mounted,  and 
their  horses  were  wild.  But  a  fall  was  no  disgrace.  Jack 
remembered  that  his  father  once  said  to  him,  when  a  colt 
had  thrown  him,  "  All  bold  riders  get  falls  ;  only  those  do 
not  who  ride  tame  horses." 

All  the  visitors  were  in  uniform  ;  all  the  talk  was  of 
war  ;  all  thoughts  were  of  the  Confederacy.  Every  one  was 
enthusiastic.      No  sacrifices  were  too  great  to  be  made.     The 


i20  "JACK  AND  JAKE.' 


corn-houses  were  emptied  into  the  great,  covered,  blue  army 
wagons  ;  the  pick  of  the  horses  and  mules  was  given  up. 
Provisions  became  scanty  and  the  food  plain  ;  coffee  and  tea 
disappeared  ;  clothes  that  were  worn  out  were  replaced  by 
homespun.  Jack  dressed  in  the  same  sort  of  coarse,  grayish 
stuff  of  which  Jake's  clothes  used  to  be  made  ;  and  his  boots 
were  made  by  Uncle  Dick  at  the  quarters  ;  but  this  did  not 
trouble  him.  It  was  rather  fun  than  otherwise.  Boys  like 
to  rough  it.  He  had  come  to  care  little  for  these  things. 
He  was  getting  manlier.  His  mother  called  him  her  pro- 
tector ;  his  father,  when  he  came  home,  as  he  did  once  or 
twice  a  year,  called  him  "  a  man,"  and  introduced  him  to  his 
friends  as  "  my  son." 

His  mother  began  to  consult  him,  to  rely  on  him,  to 
call  on  him.  He  used  to  go  about  with  her,  or  go  for  her 
wherever  she  had  business,  however  far  off  it  might  be. 

The  war  had  been  going  on  two  years,  when  the  enemy 
first  reached  Jack's  home.  It  was  a  great  shock  to  Jack,  for 
he  had  never  doubted  that  the  Confederates  would  keep  them 
back.  There  had  been  a  great  battle  some  time  before,  and 
his  father  had  been  wounded  and  taken  prisoner  (at  first  he 
was  reported  killed).  But  for  that,  Jack  said,  the  "Yankees" 
would  never  have  got  there.  The  Union  troops  did  not 
trouble  Jack  personally  ;  but  they  made  a  great  deal  of 
trouble  about  the  place.  They  took  all  the  horses  and 
mules  that  were  good  for  anything  and  put  them  in  their 
wagons.     This  was  a  terrible  blow  to  Jack.     All  his  life  he 


"JACK  AND   JAKE." 


had  been  brought  up  with  the  horses  ;  each  one  was  his  pet 
or  his  friend. 

After  that  the  war  seemed  to  be  much  more  about  Jack's 
home  than  it  had  been  before.  The  place  was  in  the  posses- 
sion first  of  one  army  and  then  of  the  other,  and  at  last,  one 
winter,  the  two  armies  lay  not  far  apart,  with  Jack's  home 
just  between  them.  "  The  Yankees "  were  the  nearer. 
Their  pickets  were  actually  on  the  plantation,  at  the  ford, 
and  at  the  bridge  over  the  little  river  into  which  the  creek 
emptied,  in  the  big  woods.  There  they  lay,  with  their  camps 
over  behind  the  hills,  a  mile  or  two  farther  away.  At  night 
the  glow  of  their  camp-fires  could  be  seen.  Jack  had  a 
pretty  aunt  who  used  to  stay  with  his  mother,  and  many 
young  officers  used  to  come  over  from  the  Confederate  side 
to  see  her.  In  such  cases,  they  usually  came  at  night,  leav- 
ing their  horses,  for  scouting  parties  used  to  come  in  on 
them  occasionally  and  stir  them  up.  Once  or  twice  skir- 
mishes took  place  in  the  fields  beyond  the  creek. 

One  evening  a  party  of  young  officers  came  in  and  took 
supper.  They  had  some  great  plan.  They  were  quite  mys- 
terious, and  consulted  with  Jack's  mother,  who  was  greatly 
interested  in  them.  They  appeared  a  little  shy  of  talking 
before  Jack  ;  but  when  his  mother  said  he  had  so  much  judg- 
ment that  he  could  be  trusted,  they  talked  openly  in  his  pres- 
ence. They  had  a  plan  to  go  into  the  Federal  camp  that 
night  and  seize  the  commanding  officer.  They  wanted  to 
know  all   the    paths.      Jack   could    tell    them.       He    was    so 


"JACK  AND   JAKE." 


proud.  There  was  not  a  cow-path  he  did  not  know  for  two 
or  three  miles  around,  for  he  and  Jake  had  hunted  all  over 
the  country.  He  could  tell  them  everything,  and  he  did  so 
with  a  swelling  heart.  They  laid  sheets  of  paper  down  on 
the  dining-table,  and  he  drew  them  plans  of  the  roads  and 
hills  and  big  woods  ;  showed  where  the  river  could  be  waded, 
and  where  the  ravines  were.  He  asked  his  mother  to  let  him 
go  along  with  them,  but  she  thought  it  best  for  him  not 
to  go. 

They  set  out  at  bed-time  on  foot,  a  half-dozen  gay  young 
fellows,  laughing  and  boasting  of  what  they  would  do,  and 
Jack  watched  them  enviously  as  their  forms  faded  away  in  the 
night.  They  did  not  succeed  in  capturing  the  officer ;  but 
they  captured  a  number  of  horses  and  a  picket  at  the  bridge, 
and  came  off  triumphant,  with  only  one  or  two  of  their  num- 
ber slightly  wounded.  Shortly  afterwards  they  came  over, 
and  had  a  great  time  telling  their  experiences.  They  had 
used  the  map  Jack  made  for  them,  and  had  got  safely  beyond 
the  pickets  and  reached  the  camp.  There,  finding  the  sen- 
tries on  guard,  they  turned  back,  and  taking  the  road, 
marched  down  on  the  picket,  as  if  they  had  come  to  relieve 
them.  Coming  from  the  camp  in  this  way,  they  had  got 
upon  the  picket,  when,  suddenly  drawing  their  pistols  and 
poking  them  up  against  the  Yankees,  they  forced  them  to 
surrender,  and  disarmed  them.  Then  taking  two  of  them 
off  separately,  they  compelled  them  to  give  the  countersign. 
Having  got  this,  they  left  the  prisoners   under  guard  of  two 


'JACK  AND   JAKE."  125 


of  their  number,  and  the  rest  went  back  to  camp.  With  the 
countersign  they  passed  the  sentry,  and  went  into  the  camp. 
Then  they  found  that  the  commanding  officer  had  gone  off 
somewhere,  and  was  not  in  camp  that  night,  and  there  were 
so  many  men  stirring  about  that  they  did  not  dare  to  wait. 
They  determined,  therefore,  to  capture  some  horses  and 
return.  They  were  looking  over  the  lines  of  horses  to  take 
their  pick  when  they  were  discovered.  Each  man  had 
selected  a  horse,  and  was  trying  to  get  him,  when  the  alarm 
was  given,  and  they  were  fired  on.  They  had  only  time  to 
cut  the  halters  when  the  camp  began  to  pour  out.  Flinging 
themselves  on  the  horses'  backs,  they  dashed  out  under  a 
fusillade,  firing  right  and  left.  They  took  to  the  road,  but  it 
had  been  picketed,  and  they  had  to  dash  through  the  men 
who  held  it  under  a  fire  poured  into  their  faces.  All  had 
passed  safely  except  one,  whose  horse  had  become  unman- 
ageable, and  had  run  away,  flying  the  track  and  taking  to  the 
fields. 

He  was,  they  agreed,  the  finest  horse  in  the  lot,  and  his 
rider  had  had  crreat  trouble  sfettinsr  him,  and  had  lingered  so 
long  that  he  came  near  being  captured.  He  had  finally  cut 
the  halter,  and  had  cut  it  too  short  to  hold  by. 

They  had  great  fun  laughing  at  their  comrade,  and  the 
figure  he  cut  as  his  barebacked  horse  dashed  off  into  the 
darkness,  with  him  swinging  to  the  mane.  He  had  shortly 
been  dragged  off  of  him  in  the  woods,  and  when  he  appeared 
in  camp  next  day,  he  looked  as  if  he  had  been  run   through  a 


126  "JACK  AND  JAKE: 


mill.  His  eyes  were  nearly  scratched  out  of  his  head,  and 
his  uniform  was  torn  into  shreds. 

The  young  fellow,  who  still  showed  the  marks  of  his  bruis- 
ing, took  the  chaffing  good-naturedly,  and  confessed  that  he 
had  nearly  lost  his  life  trying  to  hold  on  to  his  captive.  He 
had  been  down  into  the  woods  the  next  day  to  try  and  get 
his  horse  ;  though  it  was  the  other  side  of  the  little  river, 
and  really  within  the  Federal  lines.  But  though  he  caught 
sight  of  him,  it  was  only  a  glimpse.  The  animal  was  much 
too  wild  to  be  caught,  and  the  only  thing  he  received  for  his 
pains  was  a  grazing  shot  from  a  picket,  who  had  caught  sight 
of  him  prowling  around,  and  had  sent  a  ball  through  his  cap. 

The  narration  of  the  capture  and  escape  made  Jack  wild 
with  excitement.  All  the  next  day  he  was  in  a  state  of 
tremor,  and  that  evening  he  and  Jake  spent  a  long  time  up 
in  the  barn  together  talking,  or  rather  Jack  talking  and  Jake 
listening.  Jake  seemed  to  be  doubtful  ;  but  Jack's  enthusi- 
asm carried  all  before  him,  and  Jake  yielded,  as  he  nearly 
always  did. 

All  that  evening  after  they  got  back  to  the  house  Jack 
was  very  quiet.  It  was  the  quiet  of  suppressed  excitement. 
He  was  thinking. 

Next  day,  after  dinner,  he  and  Jake  started  out.  They 
were  very  mysterious.  Jack  carried  a  rope  that  they  got 
from  the  stable,  and  the  old  musket  that  he  used  in  hunting. 
Jake  carried  an  axe  and  some  corn.  They  struck  out  for  the 
creek  as  if  they  were  going  hunting  in  the  big  woods,  which 


'JACK  AND  JAKE."  127 


they  entered ;  but  at  the  creek  they  turned  and  made  for 
about  opposite  where  Jack  understood  his  friend  had  been 
thrown  by  the  wild  horse  that  night.  They  had  to  avoid  the 
pickets  on  the  roads,  so  they  stuck  to  the  woods. 

At  the  river  the  first  difficulty  presented  itself  ;  the  bridge 
and  ford  were  picketed.  How  were  they  to  get  across?  It 
was  over  their  heads  in  the  middle.  Jack  could  swim  a  little, 
but  Jake  could  not  swim  a  stroke.  Besides,  they  did  not 
wish  to  get  their  clothes  wet,  as  that  would  betray  them  at 
home.  Jack  thought  of  a  raft,  but  that  would  take  too  long 
to  make  ;  so  finally  they  decided  to  go  down  the  stream  and 
try  to  cross  on  an  old  tree  that  had  fallen  into  the  water  two 
or  three  years  before. 

The  way  down  was  quite  painful,  for  the  underbrush 
along  the  banks  was  very  dense,  and  was  matted  with  bram- 
bles and  briers,  which  stuck  through  their  clothes  ;  added  to 
which  there  was  a  danger  of  "snakes,"  as  Jake  constantly 
insisted.  But  after  a  slow  march  they  reached  the  tree.  It 
lay  diagonally  across  the  stream,  as  it  had  fallen,  its  roots  on 
the  bank  on  their  side  and  the  branches  not  quite  reaching 
the  other  bank.  This  was  a  disappointment.  However, 
Jack  determined  to  try,  and  if  it  was  not  too  deep  beyond 
the  branches,  then  Jake  could  come.  Accordingly,  he  pulled 
off  his  clothes,  and  carefully  tying  them  up  in  a  bundle,  he 
equipped  himself  with  a  long  pole  and  crawled  out  on  the 
log.  When  he  got  among  the  branches,  he  fastened  his 
bundle  and  let  himself  down.      It  was  a  little  over  his  head. 


128  "JACK  AND   JAKE." 

but  he  let  eo,  and  with  a  few  vigorous  strokes  he  reached  the 
other  side.  The  next  thing  to  do  was  to  get  Jake  over. 
Jake  was  still  on  the  far  side,  and,  with  his  eyes  wide  open, 
was  declaring,  vehemently,  "  Nor,  sir,"  he  "warn  gwine  to  git 
in  that  deep  water,  over  his  head."  He  "  didn't  like  water 
nohow."  Jack  was  in  a  dilemma.  Jake  had  to  be  got  over, 
and  so  had  his  clothes.  They  had  an  axe.  They  could  cut 
poles  if  he  could  get  back.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 
try.  Accordingly  he  went  up  a  little  way,  took  a  plunge, 
and,  after  hard  pulling  and  much  splashing  and  blowing,  got 
back  to  the  tree  and  climbed  up.  They  were  afraid  the 
Yankees  might  see  them  if  they  worked  too  long  on  the 
river,  as  it  was  a  little  cleared  up  on  the  hill  above,  so  they 
went  back  into  the  woods  and  set  to  work,  jack  selected  a 
young  pine  not  too  large  for  them  to  "  tote,"  and  they  cut  it 
down,  and  cut  off  two  poles,  which  they  carried  down  to  the 
river,  and  finally,  after  much  trouble,  worked  along  the  tree  in 
the  water,  and  got  them  stretched  across  from  the  branch 
of  the  fallen  log  to  the  other  bank.  Jake  could  hardly  be 
persuaded  to  try  it,  but  Jack  offered  him  all  his  biscuit  (his 
customary  coin  with  Jake),  and  promised  to  help  him,  and 
finally  Jake  was  got  over,  "  cooning  it" — by  which  was  meant 
crawling  on  his  hands  and  knees. 

The  next  thing  was  to  find  the  horse,  for  Jack  had  deter- 
mined to  capture  him.  This  was  a  difficult  thing  to  effect. 
In  the  first  place,  he  might  not  be  there  at  all,  as  he  might 
have  escaped  or  have  been  caught  ;  and  the  woods  had  to  be 


"JACK  AND   JAKE."  129 

explored  with  due  regard  to  the  existence  of  the  Federal 
pickets,  who  were  posted  at  the  roads  and  along  the  paths. 
If  the  pickets  caught  sight  of  them  they  might  be  shot,  or 
even  captured.  The  latter  seemed  much  the  worse  fate  to 
|ack,  unless,  indeed,  the  Yankees  should  send  them  to  John- 
son's Island,  where  his  father  was.  In  that  case,  however, 
what  would  his  mother  do  ?  It  would  not  do  to  be  captured. 
Jack  laid  out  the  plan  of  campaign.  They  would  "  beat  the 
woods,"  going  up  the  stream  at  a  sufficient  distance  apart, 
Jake,  with  the  axe  and  corn,  on  the  inside,  and  he,  with  the 
gun  and  rope,  outside.  Thus,  if  either  should  be  seen,  it 
would  be  he,  and  if  he  came  on  a  soldier,  he,  having  the  gain, 
would  capture  him.  He  gave  orders  that  no  word  was  to  be 
spoken.  If  any  track  was  found  notice  was  to  be  given  by 
imitating  a  partridge  ;  if  danger  appeared,  it  was  to  be  shown 
by  the  cat-bird's  call  of  "  Naik,  naik."  This  was  the  way  they 
used  to  play  "  Injins." 

They  worked  their  way  along  for  an  hour  or  two  with- 
out seeing  any  traces,  and  Jake,  contrary  to  Jack's  com- 
mand, called  out  to  him  : 

"  Oh,  Jack,  we  ain'  gwine  fine  no  horse  down  heah  ;  dese 
woods  is  too  big  ;  he  done  los'.  There's  a  clearin'  right  ahead 
here  ;   let's  go  home." 

There  was  a  little  field  just  ahead,  with  one  old  cabin  in 
it  ;  a  path  ran  down  from  it  to  the  bridge.  Jack  replied  in 
the  cat-bird's  warning  note  of  "  Naik,  naik,"  but  Jake  was 
tired  of  working  his  way  through   briers  and  bushes,  and  he 


1 3o  "JACK  AND   JAKE.' 


begfan  to  come  over  toward  lack,  still  calling  to  him.  Sud- 
denly  there  was  a  shout  just  ahead  ;  they  stopped  ;  it  was 
repeated. 

"  Who  dat  calling'  ?"  asked  Jake,  in  a  frightened  under- 
tone. 

"  Hush  !  it's  a  picket,"  said  Jack,  stooping  and  motioning 
him  back,  just  as  a  volume  of  white  smoke  with  blazes  in  it 
seemed  to  burst  out  of  the  woods  at  the  edge  of  the  clearing, 
and  the  stillness  was  broken  by  the  report  of  half  a  dozen 
carbines.  Leaves  and  pieces  of  bark  fell  around  them,  but 
the  bullets  flew  wide  of  their  mark. 

"  Run,  fake  !  "  shouted  Jack,  as  he  darted  away  ;  but  Jake 
had  not  waited  for  orders  ;  he  had  dropped  his  axe  and  corn, 
and  was  "  flying." 

Jack  soon  came  up  with  him,  and  they  dashed  along  to- 
gether, thinking  that  perhaps  the  picket  knew  where  they  had 
crossed  the  river,  and  would  try  to  cut  them  oft. 

In  their  excitement  they  took  a  way  farther  from  the  river 
than  that  by  which  they  had  come.  The  woods  were  open, 
and  there  were  small  spaces  covered  with  coarse  grass  on  the 
little  streams.  As  they  ran  along  down  a  hill  approaching  one 
of  these,  the)-  heard  a  sound  of  trampling  coming  towards 
them  which  brought  them  to  a  sudden  stand-still  with  their 
hearts  in  their  mouths.  It  must  be  the  enemy.  They  were 
coming  at  full  gallop.  What  a  crashing  they  made  coming 
on  !  They  did  not  have  time  to  run,  and  Jack  immediately 
cocked  his   old   musket  and  resolved  at  least  to  fight.     Just 


'JACK  AND  JAKE." 


then  there  galloped  up  to  him,  and  almost  over  him,  a  mag- 
nificent bay  horse  without  saddle  or  bridle.  At  sight  of  Jack 
he  swerved  and  gave  a  loud  snort  of  alarm,  and  then,  with 
his  head  high  in  the  air,  and  with  his  dilated  red  nostrils  and 
eyes  wide  with  fright,  went  dashing  off  into  the  woods. 


II. 


"r  I  ^  HE  horse!  the  horse!  Here  he  is!  here  he  is!" 
shouted  Jack,  taking  out  after  him  as  hard  as  he 
could,  and  calling  to  Jake  to  come  on.  In  a  minute 
or  two  the  horse  was  far  beyond  them,  and  they  stopped  to 
listen  and  get  his  direction  ;  and  while  they  were  talking, 
even  the  sound  of  his  trampling  died  away.  But  they  had 
found  him.  They  knew  he  was  still  there,  a  wild  horse  in 
the  woods. 

In  their  excitement  all  their  fear  had  vanished  as  quickly 
as  it  had  come.  Jake  suggested  something  about  being  cut 
off  at  the  tree,  but  Jack  pooh-poohed  it  now.  He  was  afire 
with  excitement.  How  <dad  his  mother  would  be  !  What 
would  not  the  soldiers  say?  "You  didn't  see  him,  Jake?" 
No,  Jake  admitted  he  did  not,  but  he  heard  him.  And  Jack 
described  him — two  white  feet,  one  a  fore  foot  and  one  a 
hind  foot,  a  star  in  his  forehead,  and  a  beautiful  mane  and 
tail.  Jake  suddenly  found  that  he  had  seen  him.  They  went 
back  to  the  little  open  place  in  the  ravine  where  the  horse 
had  been.  It  was  a  low,  damp  spot  between  very  high  banks, 
that  a  little  higher — at  a  point  where  the  water  in  rainy 
weather,  running  over  a  fallen  log  in  the  hill-side,  had  washed 


"JACK  AND  JAKE."  133 

out  a  deep  hole — had  become  nothing  but  a  gully,  with  the 
banks  quite  perpendicular  and  coming  together. 

The  stream  was  dry  now  except  for  a  little  water  in  the 
hole  at  the  tree.  Trees  and  bushes  grew  thick  upon  the 
banks  to  the  very  edge.  Below,  where  it  widened,  the  banks 
became  lower,  and  the  little  flat  piece  between  them  was  cov- 
ered with  coarse  grass,  now  cropped  quite  close.  The  horse 
evidently  fed  there.  Jack  sat  down  and  thought.  He  looked 
all  over  the  ground.  Then  he  got  up,  and  walked  along  the 
banks  around  the  hole  ;  then  he  came  back,  and  walked  up 
the  gully.      Suddenly  a  light  broke  over  his  face. 

"  I've  got  it,  Jake  ;  I've  got  it,  Jake.  We  can  trap  him. 
If  we  get  him  in  here,  we've  grot  him." 

Jake  was  practical.  "  How  you  gwine  ketch  hoss  in 
trap?"  he  asked,  his  idea  of  a  trap  being  confined  to  hare 
gums.  "  'Twill  take  all  de  plank  in  de  worl'  to  make  a 
hoss-trap.  Besides,  how  you  gwine  git  it  heah  ?  I  ain'  gwine 
tote  it." 

"  Who  asked  you  to  ?"  asked  Jack.  "  I'm  going  to  trap 
him  like  they  do  tigers  and  lions." 

"  I  don'  know  nuttin'  'bout  dem  beas'es,"  said  Jake,  dis- 
dainfully. 

"  No,  you  don't,"  said  Jack,  with   fine  scorn  ;  "  but  I  do." 

He  examined  the  banks  carefully.  His  first  idea  was  a 
pitfall  trap — a  covering  over  the  hole.  But  that  would  not 
do  ;  it  might  kill  the  horse,  or  at  least  break  a  leg.  His  eye 
fell  on  the  tracks  up  to  the  water.      His  face  lit  up. 


i34  "JACK  AND    JAKE." 

"  I've  grot  it  !  I've  £Ot  it  !  We'll  bait  him,  and  then  catch 
him.      Where  are  the  axe  and  corn  you  had  ?" 

He  turned  to  Jake.  His  mind  up  to  that  time  had  been 
so  busy  with,  first,  the  flight,  and  then  the  horse,  that  he  had 
not  noticed  that  Jake  did  not  have  them. 

Jake's  countenance  fell.  "  I  done  los'  'em,"  he  said, 
guiltily. 

Jack  looked  thunderstruck.  "  Now  you  just  go  and  find 
'em,"  he  said,  hotly. 

"  I  los'  'em  when  dem  Yankees  shoot  we  all.  I  know  I 
ain'  gwine  back  deah,"  declared  Jake,  positively.  "  I  ain' 
gwine  have  no  Yankee  shootin'  me  'bout  a  old  hoss." 

"  Yes,  you  are,"  asserted  Jack.  "  I'm  going,  and  you've 
got  to  go,  too."  Jake  remained  impassive.  "  Never  mind, 
if  you  don't  go  I  won't  play  with  you  any  more,  and  I  won't 
give  you  half  my  biscuit  any  more." 

These  were  usually  potent  threats,  but  they  failed  now. 
"  I  don'  keer  ef  you  don'  play  wid  me,"  said  Jake,  scornfully. 
"  I  don'  want  play  so  much  nohow  ;  an'  I  don'  want  none 
you'  buscuit.      Dee  ain'  white  like  dee  use'  to  be." 

Jack  changed  his  key. 

"  Never  mind,  that  was  Aunt  Winnie's  axe  you  lost.  I'm 
going  to  tell  her  you  lost  it,  and  she'll  cut  you  all  to  pieces. 
I'm  mighty  glad  I  didn't  lose   it." 

This  was  a  view  of  the  case  which  Jake  had  not  thought 
of.  It  was  true.  The  Yankees  might  not  hit  him,  but  if 
her   axe  were  lost,  his  mammy  was  certain   to  carry  out  her 


"JACK  AND   JAKE."  135 

accustomed  threat  of  cutting  him  almost  in  two.  Jake  an- 
nounced that  he  would  go,  but  first  stipulated  tor  the  biggest 
half  of  the  next  biscuit,  and  that  Jack  should  go  before. 
They  set  off  back  through  the  woods  toward  the  opening 
where  they  had  run  on  the  picket,  Jack  in  the  lead,  and  Jake 
a  little  behind.  They  had  gone  about  a  half  mile,  when  they 
heard  the  sound  of  some  one  coming  toward  them  at  a  rapid 
rate. 

"  Run,  Jack  ;  heah  dey  come,"  cried  Jake,  setting  the 
example,  and  taking  to  his  heels,  with  Jack  behind  him. 
They  ran,  but  were  evidently  being  overtaken,  for  whoever  it 
was  was  galloping  right  after  them  as  hard  as  he  could  tear. 

"  Hide  in  the  bushes,"  cried  Jack,  and  flung  himself  flat 
on  the  ground  under  a  thick  bush.  Jake  did  the  same.  They 
were  just  in  time,  for  the  pursuers  were  almost  on  them. 
Closer  and  closer  they  came,  galloping  as  hard  as  they  could, 
crashing  through  the  branches.  They  must  have  seen  them, 
for  they  came  straight  down  on  them.  Jake  began  to  cry, 
and  Jack  was  trembling,  for  he  felt  sure  they  would  be  killed  ; 
there  must  be  a  hundred  of  them.  But  no,  they  actually 
passed  by.  Jack  found  courage  to  take  a  peep.  He  gave  a 
cry,  and  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  The  horse  !  it's  the  horse."  Sure  enough,  it  was  the 
horse  they  had  seen  ;  all  this  terrible  trampling  was  nothing 
but  him  in  the  leaves,  galloping  back  toward  the  spot  from 
which  they  had  frightened  him.  They  listened  until  his 
long    gallop   died    out   in    the    distance   through   the   woods. 


136  "JACK  AND   J  ARE.' 


lake  susrarested  their  eoino;  back  to  look  and  see  if  he  had 
.gone  to  the  "  little  .pasture,"  as  they  called  the  place;  but 
Jack  was  bent  on  getting  the  axe,  and  the  corn  with  which 
they  proposed  to  bait  him.  His  reference  to  Aunt  Winnie's 
axe  prevailed,  and  they  kept  on. 

They  had  some  difficulty  in  finding  the  place  where  Jake 
had  dropped  the  things,  for  though  they  found  the  clearing, 
they  had  to  be  very  careful  how  they  moved  around  through 
the  woods.  They  could  see  the  picket  lounging  about,  and 
could  hear  them  talking  distinctly.  They  were  discussing 
whether  the  men  they  had  shot  at  were  just  scouts  or  were 
pickets  thrown  out,  and  whether  they  had  hit  any  of  them. 
One  said  that  they  were  cavalry,  for  he  had  seen  the  horses  ; 
another  said  he  knew  they  were  infantry,  for  he  had  seen  the 
men.      Jack  lay  down,  and  crept  along  close  up. 

Jack's  plan  was  to  set  a  trap  for  the  horse  just  at  the  head 
of  the  ravine,  where  the  banks  became  very  steep  and  high. 
He  had  read  how  Indians  drove  buffalo  by  frightening  them 
till  they  all  rushed  to  one  point.  He  had  seen  also  in  a  book 
of  Livingston's  travels  a  plan  of  capturing  animals  in  Africa. 
This  plan  he  chose.  He  proposed  to  lay  his  bait  along  up  to 
the  gully,  and  to  make  a  sort  of  alleyway  up  which  the  horse 
could  go.  At  the  end  he  would  have  an  opening  nearly  but 
not  quite  closed  by  saplings  inclined  toward  each  other,  and 
which  would  be  movable,  so  that  they  might  interlace.  On 
either  side  of  this  he  would  have  a  high  barricade.  He 
believed  that  the   horse  would  be  led  by  the  corn  which  he 


"JACK  AND   JAKE."  137 

would  strew  along  into  the  trap,  and  would  squeeze  through 
the  pliant  saplings,  when  he  would  be  caught  between  the 
high  banks  of  the  gully,  and  then  if  he  attempted  to  get  back 
through  the  opening,  he  would  push  the  saplings  together. 
He  would  fix  two  strong  poles  so  that  any  attempt  to  push 
through  would  bring  them  into  position.  The  horse  would 
thus  be  in  a  trap  formed  of  the  high  banks  and  the  barricade. 
They  set  to  work  and  cut  poles  all  the  evening  ;  but  it  got 
late  before  they  got  enough  for  the  barricade,  and  they  had 
to  go  home.  Before  leaving,  however,  Jack  dragged  some  of 
the  poles  up,  and  laid  his  corn  along  leading  up  to  the  gully 
to  accustom  the  horse  to  the  sight  of  the  poles  and  to  going 
into  the  gully  among  them.  They  fixed  the  two  poles  firmly 
at  the  river  crossing  from  the  branch  of  the  tree  to  the  bank, 
so  that  they  could  get  across  easily,  and  then  they  crossed  on 
them  and  came  home. 

Jack  was  filled  with  excitement,  and  had  hard  work  to 
keep  from  telling  his  mother  and  aunt  about  it,  but  he  did 
not. 

Jake's  fear  of  his  mammy's  finding  out  about  the  axe  kept 
him  silent. 

The  next  afternoon  they  went  down  again,  taking  more 
corn  with  them,  in  case  the  other  bait  had  been  eaten.  There 
were  fresh  tracks  up  to  the  pool,  so  although  they  did  not 
see  the  horse,  they  knew  he  had  been  there,  and  they  went 
to  work  joyfully  and  cut  more  poles.  They  put  them  into 
position  across  the  ravine,  and  when  it  got  time  to  go  home 


i38  "JACK   AND   JAKE." 

they  had  up  the  barricade  and  had  fixed  the  entrance  ;  but 
this  was  the  most  difficult  part,  so  Jack  laid  down  some  more 
corn  along  the  alley,  and  they  went  home. 

The  next  day  was  Saturday,  so  they  had  a  good  day's 
work  before  them,  and  taking  their  dinner  with  them,  they 
started  out.  Jack's  mother  asked  what  he  was  doing;  he 
said,  with  a  smile,  "  Setting  traps."  When  they  arrived  the 
horse  had  been  there,  and  they  worked  like  beavers  all  day, 
and  by  dinner-time  had  got  the  entrance  fixed.  It  worked 
beautifully.  By  pressing  in  between  the  two  sides  they  gave 
way  and  then  sprang  together  again  until  they  interlaced, 
and  pushing  against  them  from  within  just  pushed  them 
tighter  together.  They  laid  their  bait  down  and  went  home. 
Monday  they  visited  the  trap,  but  there  was  no  horse  in  it  ; 
the  grain  was  eaten  without — he  had  been  there — but  inside 
it  was  untouched.  He  had  pushed  some  of  the  poles  so  that 
he  could  not  get  in.  This  was  a  great  disappointment. 
.Jack's  motto,  however,  was,  "  If  at  first  you  don't  succeed, 
try,  try  again,"  so  they  refixed  it.  The  failure  had  some- 
what dampened  their  ardor. 

The  next  afternoon,  however,  when  they  went,  there  was 
the  entrance  closed,  and  inside,  turning  about  continually,  with 
high  head  and  wide  eyes,  around  the  edges  of  which  were 
angry  white  rims,  was  the  horse.  He  was  even  handsomer 
than  they  had  thought  him.  He  was  a  dangerous-looking 
fellow,  rearing  and  jumping  about  in  his  efforts  to  get  out. 
Jake  was  wild  with  excitement.      The  next  thing  was  to  take 


-JACK  AND    JAKE."  141 

him  out  and  get  him  home.  A  lasso  would  be  needed  to  catch 
him  ;  for  he  looked  too  dangerous  for  them  to  go  inside  the 
trap  to  bridle  him.  jack  strengthened  the  entrance  by  plac- 
ing a  few  more  poles  across  it,  and  then  put  his  corn  inside 
the  trap,  and  hurried  home  to  get  a  rope  and  bridle.  They 
were  dreadfully  afraid  that  some  one  might  see  them,  for  Jack 
knew  he  could  not  keep  the  secret  now  if  he  met  his  mother, 
and  he  had  pictured  himself,  with  Jake  behind  him,  galloping 
up  into  the  yard,  with  his  horse  rearing  and  plunging,  and 
bringing  him  up  right  before  his  mother,  with  perhaps  a  half 
dozer,  officers  around  her.  They  were  back  in  an  hour  or 
so  with  a  good  rope  and  bridle. 

Jack  made  a  running  noose  in  the  rope,  and  tried  to 
throw  it  over  the  horse's  head.  He  had  practised  this  on 
stumps  and  on  Jake,  playing  Injins,  until  he  was  right  skil- 
ful at  it  ;  but  getting  it  over  the  head  of  a  wild  and  fright- 
ened horse  was  another  thing  from  putting  it  over  a  stump, 
or  even  over  Jake,  and  it  was  a  long  time  before  he  suc- 
ceeded. He  stood  on  the  bank  over  the  horse,  and  would 
throw  and  throw,  and  fail  ;  the  horse  got  furious,  and  would 
rear  and  strike  at  them  with  his  fore-feet.  At  last,  just  as  he 
was  thinking  that  he  could  not  do  it,  the  noose  went  over  the 
horse's  head.     Jack  pulled  it  taut. 

In  a  second  the  other  end  was  wrapped  twice  around  a 
small  tree  on  the  bank;  for  Jack  knew  how  to  "get  a  pur- 
chase." The  horse  reared  and  pulled  frightfully,  but  his 
pulling  only  tightened  the  rope  around  his   neck,  and   at  last 


H2  "JACK  AND  JAKE: 


he  tell   back  choking,  his  eyes  nearly  starting  out  of  his  head. 
This    was    Jack's    opportunity.      He    had    often   seen   young 
steers  caught  and  yoked  this  way,  and  he   had   bridled  youncr 
colts.      In  a  second  he  was  in  the  pen,  and  had  the  bridle  on 
the  horse,  and  in  another  minute  he  was  out  and  the  rope  was 
loosed.      The  horse,  relieved,  bounded  to  his   feet   and  began 
to  wheel   again  ;  but  he   was   not  so   fierce    as    before.      The 
bridle  on  his  head  was  recognized  by  him  as  a  badge  of  servi. 
tude,  and  he  was  quieter.      It  was   now  late,  and  he   was  too 
wild  to  take  out  yet,  so  Jack  determined  to  leave  him  there, 
and  come  again  next  day  and  get   him.      The   next  afternoon 
Jack   and  Jake   set    out    again   for  the    little   meadow   in   the 
woods.     Jack  was   bent    on   bringing   his   captive   home  this 
time,  whatever  happened. 

He  did  not  go  until  late,  for  he  had  to  pass  the  pickets  on 
the  road  to  the  river,  and  he  could  do  this  better  about  dusk 
than  he  could  in  broad  daylight.  He  had  an  idea  that  they 
might  think,  as  he  would  come  from  toward  the  Yankee 
camp,  that  it  would  be  all  right;  if  not,  he  would  make  a  dash 
for  it.  He  carried  a  feed  of  corn  with  him  to  crive  to  the 
horse  for  two  reasons:  the  first  was  that  he  thought  he  would 
need  it,  and,  besides,  it  would  quiet  him.  They  crossed  at 
the  old  tree,  not  far  from  the  meadow  ;  they  had  crossed  so 
often  that  they  had  made  quite  a  path  now.  All  the  way 
along  Jack  was  telling  Jake  how  he  was  going  to  ride  the 
horse,  no  matter  what  he  did.  Jake  was  to  stand  on  the 
ground  and  hold  the   rope,  so  that  if  the  horse  flung  Jack  he 


* 


"JACK  AND   JAKE''  143 

would  not  get  loose.  They  approached  the  trap  with  great 
excitement.  They  were  careful,  however,  for  they  did  not 
want  to  scare  him.  As  they  drew  near  they  were  pleased  to 
find  he  had  got  quiet.  They  came  nearer;  he  was  so  quiet 
that  they  thought  probably  he  was  asleep.  So  they  crept  up 
quite  close,  Jack  in  advance,  and  peeped  over  the  bank  into 
the  trap.  Jack's  heart  jumped  up  into  his  throat.  It  was 
empty  !  he  was  gone  !  Jack  could  not  help  a  few  tears 
stealing  down  his  cheeks.  Yes,  he  was  gone.  At  first 
he  thought  he  had  escaped,  and  he  could  catch  him  again  ; 
but  no,  an  examination  of  the  place  showed  him  that  he 
had  been  found  in  the  trap  by  some  one,  and  had  been 
stolen.  The  barricade  was  pulled  down,  and  the  poles  of 
the  entrance  were  thrown  back  quite  out  of  the  way.  Be- 
sides, there  were  men's  tracks  in  the  wet  place  on  the  edge 
of  the  pool.  Jack  sat  down  and  cried.  It  was  some  of  those 
Yankees,  he  knew.  Jake  poured  out  all  his  eloquence  upon 
the  subject.     This  relieved  him. 

"  If  I  had  my  gun  I'd  go  right  straight  and  shoot  them," 
declared  Jack. 

This  valorous  resolve  set  him  to  thinking.  He  got  up, 
and  went  down  to  the  gap.  He  could  see  the  tracks  where 
the  horse  was  led  out.  He  must  have  "  cut  up  "  a  good  deal, 
for  the  grass  outside  was  very  much  trampled.  Jack  could 
see  where  he  was  led  or  ridden  away.  The  tracks  went 
straight  toward  the  clearing  where  the  picket  was.  They 
were  quite  fresh  ;  he  could   not  very  long  have  been  taken. 


144  "JACK   AND   JAKE. 


Jack  determined  to  track  him,  and  find  out  where  he  was  if 
possible.  They  set  out  through  the  woods.  They  could  fol- 
low the  track  quite  well  in  most  places,  but  in  some  spots  it 
was  almost  lost.  In  such  cases  Jack  followed  the  method  of 
woodsmen — he  took  a  circle,  and  hunted  until  he  found  it 
again.  The  trail  led  straight  to  the  clearing.  As  they  drew 
near,  Jake  became  very  nervous,  so  Jack  left  him  lying  under 
a  bush,  and  he  crept  up.  It  was  so  late  now  that  it  was  get- 
ting quite  dusk  in  the  woods,  so  Jack  could  creep  up  close. 
He  got  down  on  his  hands  and  knees.  As  he  came  near 
he  could  see  the  men  sitting  about  the  little  old  cabin.  They 
were  talking.  Their  guns  were  lying  against  the  wall,  at  some 
little  distance,  and  their  horses  were  picketed  not  far  off, 
rather  in  the  shadow,  Jack  observed.  Jack  lay  down  at  the 
edcre  of  the  wood  and  counted  them.  There  were  five  men 
and  six  horses.  Yes,  one  of  them  must  be  his  horse.  He 
listened  to  the  men.  They  were  talking  about  horses.  He 
crept  a  little  closer.  Yes,  they  were  talking  over  the  finding 
of  his  horse.  One  man  thought  he  knew  him,  that  he  was  the 
Colonel's  horse  that  had  been  stolen  that  night  when  so  many 
horses  were  carried  off  by  the  Johnnies;  others  thought  it  was 
a  horse  some  of  the  negroes  had  stolen  from  the  plantation 
across  the  river  from  their  master,  and  had  hidden.  There 
was  the  pen  and  the  bridle,  and  there  was  the  path  down  to 
the  crossing  at  the  river.  Jack's  heart  beat  faster  ;  so  they 
knew  the  crossing.  They  were  very  much  divided,  but  on 
one  thing  they  all  agreed,  that  anyhow  he  was  a  fine  animal, 


"JACK   AND   JAKE."  145 

worth  at  least  three  hundred  dollars,  and  they  would  have  a 
nice  sum  from  him  when  the}'  sold  him.  It  was  suggested 
that  they  should  play  cards  for  him,  and  whichever  one 
should  win  should  have  the  whole  of  him.  This  was  agreed 
to,  and  they  soon  arranged  themselves  and  began  to  play 
cards  in  the   moonlight. 

Jack  could  now  make  out  his  horse  standing  tied  near  the 
cabin  on  the  outside  of  the  others.  He  could  see  in  the 
moonlight  that  he  was  tied  with  a  rope.  He  crept  back  to 
Jake,  and  together  they  went  further  down  into  the  woods  to 
consult.  Jack  had  a  plan  which  he  unfolded  to  Jake,  but  Jake 
was  obdurate.  "Nor,  sah,  he  warn'  gwine  'mong  dem  Yan- 
kees ;  Yankees  ketch  him  and  shoot  him.  He  was  gwine 
home.  Mammy'd  whup  him  if  he  didn' ;  she  mought  whup 
him  anyway."  Jack  pleaded  and  promised,  but  it  was  use- 
less. He  explained  to  Jake  that  they  could  ride  home  quicker 
than  they  could  walk.  It  was  of  no  avail.  Jake  recalled  that 
there  was  a  Yankee  picket  near  the  bridge,  and  that  was  the 
only  place  a  horse  could  cross  since  the  ford  was  stopped  up. 
Finally  Jack  had  to  let  Jake  go. 

He  told  him  not  to  say  anything  at  home  as  to  where  he 
was,  which  Jake  promised,  and  Jack  helped  him  across  the 
poles  at  the  tree,  and  then  went  back  alone  to  the  clearing. 
He  crept  up  as  before.  The  men  were  still  playing  cards, 
and  he  could  hsar  them  swearing  and  laucdiingf  over  their  ill 
or  good  luck.  One  of  them  looked  at  his  watch.  The  relief 
would  be  along  in  twenty  minutes.  Jack's  heart  beat.  He 
10 


146  "JACK   AND   JAKE." 

had  no  time  to  lose.  He  cut  himself  a  stout  switch.  He 
made  a  little  detour,  and  went  around  the  other  side  of  the 
clearing,  so  as  to  get  the  horse  between  him  and  the  men. 
This  put  him  on  the  side  toward  the  camp,  as  the  men  were 
on  the  path  which  led  to  the  bridge.  Without  stopping,  he 
crept  up  to  the  open  space.  Then  he  flung  himself  on  his 
face,  and  began  to  crawl  up  through  the  weeds  toward  the 
horses,  stopping  every  now  and  then  to  listen  to  the  men. 
As  he  drew  near,  one  or  two  of  the  horses  got  alarmed 
and  began  to  twist,  and  one  of  them  gave  a  snort  of  fear. 
Jack  heard  the  men  discussing  it,  and  one  of  them  say  he 
would  go  and  see  what  was  the  matter.  Jack  lay  flat  in 
the  weeds,  and  his  heart  almost  stopped  with  fright  as  he 
heard  the  man  coming  around  the  house.  He  could  see 
him  through  the  weeds,  and  he  had  his  gun  in  his  hands. 
He  seemed  to  be  coming  right  to  Jack,  and  he  gave  himself 
up  as  lost.  He  could  hear  his  heart  thumping  so,  he  was 
sure  the  man  must  hear  it  too.  He  would  have  sprung  up 
and  cut  for  the  woods  if  he  had  had  the  slightest  chance  ; 
and  as  it  was,  he  came  near  giving  himself  up,  but  though 
the  man  seemed  to  be  looking  right  toward  him,  Jack  was 
fortunately  so  concealed  by  the  weeds  that  he  did  not  ob- 
serve him.  He  went  up  to  Jack's  horse,  and  examined  the 
rope.  "Tain't  nothing  but  this  new  horse,"  he  called  out 
to  his  comrades.  "  He  just  wanted  to  see  his  master.  I'll 
put  my  saddle  on  him  now,  boys.  I've  got  him  so  certain, 
and  I  mean  to  let  him  know  he's  got  a  master."  He  changed 
the  saddle  and  bridle  from  another  horse  to   that,  and   then 


"JACK  AND  JAKE."  147 


went  back  to  his  comrades,  who  were  all  calling  to  him  to 
come  along,  and  were  accusing  him  of  trying  to  take  up  the 
time  until  the  relief  came,  because  he  was  ahead,  and  did  not 
want  to  play  more  and  give  them  a  chance  to  win  the  horse 
back. 

Jack  lay  still  for  a  minute,  and  then  took  a  peep  at  the 
men,  who  were  all  busily  playing.  Then  he  crept  up.  As 
soon  as  he  was  out  of  sight,  he  sprung  to  his  feet  and  walked 
boldly  up  to  the  horse,  caught  him  by  the  bit,  and  with  a 
stroke  of  his  knife  cut  the  rope  almost  in  two  close  up  to  his 
head.  Then  he  climbed  up  on  him,  gathered  up  the  reins, 
fixed  his  feet  in  the  stirrup  leathers,  bent  over,  and  with  a 
single  stroke  cut  the  rope  and  turned  him  toward  the  bridge. 
The  horse  began  to  rear  and  jump.  Jack  heard  the  men  stop 
talking,  and  one  of  them  say,  "That  horse  is  loose  ;  "  another 
one  said,  "  I'll  go  and  see  ;  "  another  said,  "  There's  the.  relief." 
Jack  looked  over  his  shoulder.  There  came  a  half-dozen 
men  on  horses.  There  was  no  time  to  lose.  Lifting-  his 
switch  above  his  head,  Jack  struck  the  horse  a  lick  with  all  his 
might,  and  with  a  bound  which  nearly  threw  Jack  out  of  his 
seat,  he  dashed  out  into  the  moonlio-ht  straight  for  the  road. 
"  He's  loose  !  there's  a  man  on  him  !  "  shouted  the  men,  spring- 
ing to  their  feet.  Jack  leaned  forward  on  his  neck  and  gave 
him  the  switch  just  as  a  volley  was  fired  at  him.  Pop,  pop, 
pop,  pop  went  the  pistols  ;  and  the  balls  flew  whistling  about 
Jack's  head  :  but  he  was  leaning  far  forward,  and  was  un- 
touched. Under  the  lash  the  horse  went  flying  down  the 
path  across  the  little  field. 


III. 

JACK  had  often  run  races  on  colts,  but  he  had  never 
ridden  such  a  race  as  that.  The  wind  blew  whistling 
by  him  ;  the  leaves  of  the  bushes  over  the  path  cut 
him,  hissing  as  he  dashed  along.  If  he  could  pass  the  picket 
where  the  path  struck  the  road  near  the  bridge,  he  would  be 
safe.  The  path  was  on  an  incline  near  the  road,  and  was  on 
a  straight  line  with  the  bridge,  so  he  had  a  straight  dash  for 
it.  The  picket  was  just  beyond  the  fork.  Jack  had  often 
seen  them.  There  were  generally  two  men  on  the  bridge, 
and  a  pole  was  laid  across  the  railing  of  the  bridge  near  the 
other  side.  But  Jack  did  not  think  of  that  now  ;  he  thought 
only  of  the  men  galloping  behind  him  on  his  track.  He 
could  not  have  stopped  the  horse  if  he  would,  but  he  had  no 
idea  of  trying  it.  He  was  near  the  bridge,  and  his  only 
chance  was  to  dash  by  the  picket.  Down  the  path  he  went 
as  straight  as  an  arrow,  his  splendid  horse  leaping  under  his 
light  weight — down  the  path  like  a  bullet  through  the  dusk 
of  the  woods.  The  sleepy  picket  had  heard  the  firing  at  the 
clearing  up  on  the  hill,  and  had  got  ready  to  stop  whoever  it 
might  be.     They  were  standing  in  the   road,  with  their  guns 


"JACK  AND   JAKE."  149 


ready.  They  could  not  make  it  out.  It  was  only  a  single 
horse  coming  tearing  down  toward  them. 

"  Halt,  halt  !  "  they  called,  before  Jack  was  in  sight  ;  but 
it  was  idle.  Down  the  path  the  horse  came  flying — Jack  with 
his  feet  in  the  stirrup  leathers,  his  hands  wrapped  in  the 
bridle  reins,  his  body  bent  forward  on  his  horse's  neck,  and 
cluckine  his  tongue  out.  In  one  bound  the  horse  was  in  the 
road.  "Halt!"  Bang!  bang!  went  the  guns  in  his  very 
face.  But  he  was  flying.  A  dozen  leaps  and  he  was  thun- 
dering across  the  bridge.  Jack  was  conscious  only  that  a 
dark  form  stood  in  the  middle,  throwing  up  its  arms.  It  was 
but  a  second  ;  he  saw  it  shot  out  into  the  water  as  if  struck 
by  a  steam-engine.  His  horse  gave  one  splendid  leap,  and 
the  next  minute  he  was  tearing  up  the  road  toward  home, 
through  the  quiet  woods,  which  gave  no  sound  but  that  of 
his  rushing  stride. 

Jack  had  one  moment  of  supreme  delight.  His  mother 
had  got  somewhat  anxious  about  him,  and  they  were  all  on 
the  front  porch  when  he  galloped  up  into  the  yard,  his  beau- 
tiful bay  now  brought  down  under  perfect  control,  but  yet 
full  of  life  and  spirit.  As  they  ran  to  meet  him,  Jack  sprang 
from  the  saddle  and  presented  the  horse  to  his  mother. 

The  next  day  Jack's  mother  called  him  into  her  room. 
She  took  him  by  the  hand.  "  My  son,"  she  said,  "  I  want 
you  to  carry  the  horse  back  and  return  him  to  the  Yankee 
camp." 

Jack  was  aghast.     "  Why,  mamma,  he's  my  horse  ;   that  is, 


iSo  "JACK  AND  JAKE" 

he  is  yours.  I  found  him  and  caught  him  and  gave  him  to 
you." 

His  mother  explained  to  him  her  reasons.  She  did  not 
think  it  was  right  for  him  to  keep  the  horse  obtained  in  such 
a  way.  Jack  argued  that  he  had  found  the  horse  running  wild 
in  their  own  woods,  and  did  not  know  his  owner.  This  made 
no  difference  ;  she  told  him  the  horse  had  an  owner.  He 
argued  that  the  soldiers  took  horses,  had  taken  all  of  theirs, 
and  that  their  own  soldiers — the  gentlemen  who  had  come  to 
tea — had  been  over  and  taken  a  lot  from  the  camp.  His 
mother  explained  to  him  that  that  was  different.  They  were 
all  soldiers  wearing  uniforms,  engaged  openly  in  war.  What 
they  took  was  capture  ;  Jack  was  not  a  soldier,  and  was  not 
treated  as  one.  Jack  told  her  how  he  had  been  shot  at  and 
chased.  She  was  firm.  She  wished  the  horse  returned,  and 
though  Jack  wept  a  little  for  the  joint  reason  of  having  to 
give  up  the  horse  and  the  mortification  of  restoring  it  to  the 
Yankees,  he  obeyed.  He  had  some  doubt  whether  he  would 
not  be  captured  ;  but  his  mother  said  she  would  write  a  letter 
to  the  commanding  officer  over  there,  explaining  why  she 
returned  the  horse,  and  this  would  be  safe- conduct.  She  had 
known  the  colonel  before  the  war,  and  he  had  once  stopped 
at  her  house  after  a  little  battle  beyond  them.  Colonel  Wil- 
son had,  in  fact,  once  been  a  lover  of  hers. 

The  idea  of  going  with  a  safe-conduct  was  rather  soothing 
to  Jack's  feelings  ;  it  sounded  like  a  man.  So  he  went  and 
fed  the   horse.      Then  he   went    and   asked   Jake  to   go   with 


"JACK  AND  JAKE."  151 

him.  Jake  was  very  doubtful.  He  was  afraid  of  the  Yan- 
kees catching  him.  The  glory  of  Jack's  capture  the  night 
before  had,  however,  given  Jack  great  prestige,  and  when 
Jack  told  him  about  the  letter  his  mother  was  going  to  write 
as  a  safe-conduct — like  a  "  pass,"  he  explained — Jake  agreed 
to  go,  but  only  on  condition  that  he  might  carry  the  pass. 
To  this  Jack  consented.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when 
they  started,  for  the  horse  had  to  be  broken  to  carry  double, 
and  he  was  very  lively.  Both  Jack  and  Jake  went  off  again 
and  again.  At  last,  however,  they  got  him  steady,  and  set 
out,  Jack  in  the  saddle,  and  Jake  behind  him  clinging  on. 
Jake  had  the  letter  safe  in  his  pocket  for  their  protection. 
They  had  a  beautiful  ride  through  the  woods,  and  Jack 
remembered  the  glorious  race  he  had  had  there  the  night 
before.  As  they  approached  the  bridge,  Jack  thought  of 
tying  his  handkerchief  on  a  stick  as  a  flag  of  truce  ;  but  he 
was  not  sure,  as  he  was  not  a  real  soldier,  he  ought  to  do  so. 
He  therefore  rode  slowly  on.  He  pictured  to  himself  the 
surprise  they  would  have  when  he  rode  up,  and  they  recog- 
nized the  horse,  and  learned  that  he  had  captured  it. 

This  feeling  almost  did  away  with  the  mortification  of 
having  to  return  it.  He  rode  slowly  as  he  neared  the  bridge, 
for  he  did  not  want  them  to  think  he  was  a  soldier  and  shoot 
at  him.  Jack  was  surprised  when  he  got  to  the  bridge  to  find 
no  men  there.  He  rode  across,  and  not  caring  to  keep  up 
the  main  road,  turned  up  the  path  toward  the  clearing.  He 
rode   cautiously.      His   horse   suddenly   shied,   and  Jack  was 


1.52  "JACK  AND   JAKE.' 


startled  by  some  one  springing  out  of  the  bushes  before  him 
and  calling  "  Halt  ! "  as  he  flung  up  his  gun.  Jake  clutched 
him,  and  Jack  halted.  Several  men  surrounded  them,  and 
ordered  them  to  get  down.  They  slipped  off  the  horse,  and 
one  of  the  men  took  it.      They  all  had  guns. 

"Why,  this  is  the  Colonel's  thoroughbred  that  was  stolen 
two  weeks  ago,"  declared  one  of  the  men.  "  Where  did  you 
steal  this  horse  ?  "  asked  another  of  them,  roughly. 

"  We  did  not  steal  him,"  asserted  jack,  hotly.  "  We 
found  him    and    caught    him   in   the   woods." 

"You  hear  that?"  The  man  turned  to  his  comrades. 
"  Come,  little  Johnnie,  don't  tell  lies.  We've  got  you,  and 
you  were  riding  a  stolen  horse,  and  there  were  several  others 
stolen  at  the  same  time.  You'd  better  tell  the  truth,  and 
make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  if  you  know  what's  good  for  you." 

fack  indignantly  denied  that  he  had  stolen  the  horse,  and 
told  how  they  had  caught  him  and  were  bringing  him  back. 
He  had  a  letter  from  his  mother  to  Colonel  Wilson,  he 
asserted,  to  prove  it. 

"  Where  is  the  letter  ?  "  they  asked. 

Jack  turned  to  Jake.      "  Jake's  got  it  in  his  pocket." 

"  Yes,  I  got  de  pass,"  declared  Jake,  feeling  in  his  pocket. 
He  felt  first  in  one  and  then  another.  His  countenance  fell. 
"  Hi  !      I  done  los'  it,"  he  asserted. 

The  soldiers  laughed.  That  was  a  little  too  thin,  they 
declared.  Come,  they  must  go  with  them.  They  proposed 
to  put  a  stop  to  this  horse-stealing.      It  had   been  going  on 


"JACK  AND  JAKE."  153 


long  enough.  A  horse  was  stolen  only  last  night,  and  the 
man  had  run  over  one  of  the  pickets  on  the  bridge,  and 
had  knocked  him  into  the  river  and  drowned  him.  They 
were  glad  to  rind  who  it  was,  etc. 

Jack  felt  very  badly.  Jake  came  close  up  to  him  and 
began  to  whisper.  "  Jack,  what  dey  gwine  do  wid  us?"  he 
asked. 

"  Hang  you,  you  black  little  horse-stealing  imp  !  "  said 
one  of  the  men,  with  a  terrific  force.  "Cut  you  up  into  little 
pieces." 

The  others  laughed.  Men  are  often  not  very  considerate 
to  children.  They  do  not  realize  how  helpless  children  feel 
in  their  power.      Both  Jack  and  Jake  turned  pale. 

Jake  was  ashy.      "  jack,  I  told  you  not  to  come,"  he  cried. 

Jack  acknowledged  the  truth  of  this.  He  had  it  on  his 
tongue's  end  to  say,  "  What  did  you  lose  the  letter  for?"  but 
he  did  not.  He  felt  that  as  his  father's  son  he  must  be  brave. 
He  just  walked  close  to  Jake  and  touched  him.  "  Don't  be 
scared,"  he  whispered.      "  We  will  get  away." 

Just  then  one  of  the  men  caught  Jake  and  twisted  his 
arm  a  little.  Jake  gave  a  little  whine  of  fright.  In  an 
instant  Jack  snatched  a  gun  from  a  man  near  by  him,  and 
cocking  it,  levelled  it  at  the  soldier.  "  Let  Jake  go,  or  I'll 
blow  your  brains  out,"  he  said. 

A  hand  seized  him  from  behind,  and  the  gun  was  jerked 
out  of  his  hand.  It  went  off,  but  the  bullet  flew  over  their 
heads.      There  was  no  more  twisting  of  Jake's  arm,  however. 


i54  "JACK  AND   JAKE: 


The  soldiers,  after  this,  made  them  march  along  between 
them.  They  carried  them  to  the  clearing  where  the  old 
house  was,  and  where  some  of  their  comrades  were  on  guard 
awaiting  them.  They  marched  the  boys  up  to  the  fire. 
"  We've  got  the  little  horse-thieves,"  they  declared.  "  They 
were  coming  over  after  another  horse  ;  but  I  guess  we'll 
break  it  up  now." 

"  Why,  they  are  mighty  little  fellows  to  be  horse-thieves,'" 
said  one. 

"  They  are  the  worst  kind,"  declared  the  other. 

"  Must  be  right  bad,  then,  corporal,  for  you  are  pretty 
handy  yourself,"  declared  a  comrade. 

"  We  are  not  any  horse-thieves,"  asserted  Jack.  "  We 
found  this  horse." 

"  Shut  up  !"  ordered  one  of  his  captors.  They  began  to 
talk  about  what  they  would  do  with  them.  Several  methods 
of  securing  them  were  proposed,  and  it  was  finally  deter- 
mined to  lock  them  up  in  the  loft  of  the  old  cabin  till  morn- 
ing, when  they  would  carry  them  to  camp,  and  the  Colonel 
would  make  proper  disposition  of  them. 

"  Can't  they  get  away  in  there  ?"  asked  one  man. 

"  No  ;  there  is  a  bolt  on  the  outside  of  the  door,"  said 
another.      "  Besides,  we  are  all  down  here." 

They  were  accordingly  taken  and  carried  into  the  house 
and  up  the  rickety  old  stairs  to  the  loft,  where  they  were  left 
on  the  bare  floor  with  a  single  blanket.  It  was  quite  dark  in 
there,  and   Jack    felt   very    low   down  as   he  heard  the  bolt 


"JACK  AND  JAKE."  155 


pushed  into  the  staple  on  the  outside.  Jake  was  crying,  and 
Jack  could  not  help  sobbing  a  little  himself.  He  had,  how- 
ever, to  comfort  Jake,  so  he  soon  stopped,  and  applied  him- 
self to  this  work.  The  only  comfort  Jake  took  was  in  his 
assurance  that  he  would  get  him  out 

"  How  you  gwine  do  it  ?"  asked  Jake. 

"  Never  mind,  I'll  do  it,"  declared  Jack,  though  he  had  no 
idea  how  he  was  to  make  good  his  word.  He  had  taken 
eood  notice  of  the  outside  of  the  cabin,  and  now  he  be^an 
to  examine  the  inside.  As  his  eyes  became  accustomed  to 
the  darkness,  he  could  see  better,  and  as  they  were  bare- 
footed, they  could  walk  about  without  any  noise.  The  old 
roof  was  full  of  holes,  and  they  could  see  the  sky  grow  white 
with  the  rising  moon.  There  was  an  old  window  in  one  end 
of  the  loft.  There  were  holes  in  the  side,  and  looking  out, 
Jack  could  see  the  men  sitting  about,  and  hear  their  voices. 
Jack  tried  the  window  ;  it  was  nailed  down.  He  examined 
it  carefully,  as  he  did  every  other  part  of  the  room.  He 
decided  that  he  could  cut  the  window  out  in  less  time  than 
he  could  cut  a  hole  through  the  roof. 

He  would  have  tried  the  bolt,  but  some  of  the  men  were 
asleep  in  the  room  below,  and  they  could  not  pass  them. 
If  they  could  get  out  of  the  window,  they  might  climb  down 
the  chimney.  He  had  nothing  but  his  old  pocket-knife,  and 
unfortunately  a  blade  of  that  was  broken  ;  but  the  other  was 
good.  He  told  Jake  his  plan,  who  did  not  think  much  of  it. 
Jack  thought  it  was  bedtime,  so  he  knelt  down  and  said  his 


156  "JACK  AND   JAKE.' 


prayers.  When  he  prayed  for  his  mother  he  felt  very  badly, 
and  a  few  tears  stole  out  of  his  eyes.  When  he  was  done, 
Jack  began  to  work.  He  worked  carefully  and  quietly  at  first, 
making  a  cut  or  two,  and  then  listening  to  see  if  any  one  stirred 
below.  This  was  slow  work,  and  after  a  while  he  began  to 
cut  harder  and  faster.  It  showed  so  very  little  that  he  pres- 
ently got  impatient,  and  dug  his  knife  deeper  into  the  plank. 
It  took  a  good  hold,  he  gave  a  vigorous  pull,  and  the  blade 
snapped  off  in  the  middle.  It  made  so  much  noise  that  one 
of  the  men  below  asked  : 

"  What  are  those  boys  doin'  upstairs  there  ?  They  ain't 
tryin'  to  git  away,  yo'  s'pose,  are  they?  If  so,  we  better 
fetch  'em  down  here." 

Jack  flung  himself' down  beside  Jake  and  held  his  breath. 
The  soldiers  listened,  and  then  one  of  them  said  : 

"  Oh,  no,  'tain't  nothin'  but  rats.  They're  fast  asleep,  I 
miess." 

Jack  almost  gave  himself  up  for  lost,  for  he  now  had  only 
his  broken  blade  ;  but  after  a  while  he  went  at  it  again,  mere 
carefully.  He  could  see  that  he  was  making  headway  now, 
and  he  kept  on  cutting.  Jake  went  fast  asleep  in  the  blanket, 
but  Jack  kept  on.  After  a  time  he  had  nearly  cut  out  one  of 
the  planks  ;  he  could  get  a  hold  on  it  and  feel  it  give.  At 
this  point  his  impatience  overcame  him.  He  took  hold  and 
gave  a  wrench.  The  plank  broke  with  a  noise  which  startled 
not  only  Jake  lying  in  his  blanket,  but  the  men  below,  one  or 
two  of  whom  sprang  up.      They  began  to  discuss  the  noise. 


"JACK  AXD  JAKE."  157 


"  That  war'n't  no  rats,"  said  one.  "  Them  boys  is  trying 
to  git  out.  I  heard  the  window  open.  Go  and  see  what 
they  are  doing,"  he  said  to  his  comrade. 

Jack  held  his  breath. 

"You  go  yourself,"  said  he.      "  I  say  it's  rats." 

"  Rats  !  You've  got  rats,"  said  the  other.  "  I'll  go,  just 
to  show  you  'tain't  rats." 

He  got  up,  and  taking  a  torch,  came  to  the  stair.  Jack 
felt  his  heart  jump  up  in  his  mouth.  He  just  had  time  to 
stuff  his  hat  into  the  hole  he  had  made,  to  shut  out  the  sky, 
and  to  fling  himself  clown  beside  Jake  and  roll  up  in  the 
blanket,  when  the  bolt  was  pulled  back  and  the  man  entered. 
He  held  the  torch  high  above  his  head  and  looked  around. 
Jack  felt  his  hair  rise.  He  could  hear  his  heart  thumping, 
and  was  sure  the  man  heard  it  too.  Jake  stirred.  Jack 
clutched  him  and  held  him.  The  man  looked  at  them.  The 
flame  flickered  and  died,  the  man  went  out,  the  bolt  grated  in 
the  staple,  and  the  man  went  down  the  shaky  stair. 

"  Well,  you  are  right  for  once,"  Jack  heard  him  say. 
"  Must  have  been  rats  ;  they  are  both  fast  asleep  on  the 
floor." 

Jack  waited  till  the  talk  died  away,  and  then  he  went  to 
work  again.  He  had  learned  a  lesson  by  this  time,  and  he 
worked  carefully.  At  last  he  had  the  hole  big  enough  to 
creep  through.  It  was  right  over  the  shoulder  of  the  rickety 
old  log  chimney,  and  by  making  a  quick  turn  he  could  catch 
hold  of  the  "chinking"  and  climb  down  by  it.     He  could  see 


158  "JACK  AND   JAKE: 


the  men  outside,  but  the  chimney  would  be  partly  between 
them,  and  as  they  climbed  down  the  shadow  would,  he  believed, 
conceal  them.  He  did  not  know  how  long  he  had  been  work- 
ing, so  he  thought  it  best  not  to  wait  any  longer.  Therefore, 
after  taking  a  peep  through  the  cracks  down  on  the  men 
below,  and  finding  them  all  asleep,  he  began  to  wake  Jake. 
Having  got  him  awake,  he  lay  down  by  him  and  whispered 
his  plans  to  him.  He  would  go  first  to  test  the  chimney,  and 
then  Jake  would  come.  They  were  not  to  speak  under  any 
circumstances,  and  if  either  slipped,  they  were  to  lie  perfectly 
still.  The  blanket — except  one  piece,  which  he  cut  off  and 
hung  over  the  hole  to  hide  the  sky,  in  case  the  men  should 
come  up  and  look  for  them — was  to  be  taken  along  with 
them  to  rlinsr  over  them  if  their  flight  should  be  discovered. 
The  soldiers  might  think  it  just  one  of  their  blankets.  After 
they  got  to  the  woods,  they  were  to  make  for  their  tree.  If 
they  were  pursued,  they  were  to  lie  down  under  bushes  and 
not  speak  or  move.  Having  arranged  everything,  and  fas- 
tened the  piece  of  blanket  so  that  it  hung  loosely  over  the 
hole,  allowing  them  to  get  through,  Jack  crawled  out  of  the 
window  and  let  himself  down  by  his  hands.  His  bare  feet 
touched  the  shoulder  of  the  chimney,  and  letting  go,  he 
climbed  carefully  down.  Jake  was  ajready  coming  out  of  the 
window.  Jack  thought  he  heard  a  noise,  and  crept  around 
the  house  through  the  weeds  to  see  what  it  was.  It  was 
only  a  horse,  and  he  was  turning  back,  when  he  heard  a  great 
racket  and  scrambling,  and  with   a  tremendous  thump   Jake 


"JACK  AND  JAKE."  159 


came  tumbling  down  from  the  chimney  into  the  weeds.  He 
had  the  breath  all  knocked  out  of  him,  and  lay  quite  still. 
Jack  heard  some  one  say,  "  What  on  earth  was  that  ? "  and  he 
had  only  time  to  throw  the  blanket  over  Jake  and  drop  down 
into  the  weeds  himself,  when  he  heard  the  man  come  striding 
around  the  house.  He  had  his  gun  in  his  hand.  He  passed 
right  by  him,  between  him  and  the  dark  blanket  lying  in  the 
corner.  He  stopped  and  looked  all  around.  He  was  not  ten 
feet  from  him,  and  was  right  over  the  blanket  under  which  Jake 
lay.  He  actually  stooped  over,  as  if  he  was  going  to  pull  the 
blanket  off  of  Jake,  and  Jack  gave  himself  up  for  lost.  But 
the  man  passed  on,  and  Jack  heard  him  talking  to  his  com- 
rades about  the  curious  noise.  They  decided  that  it  must 
have  been  a  gun  which  burst  somewhere.  Jack's  heart 
was  in  his  mouth  about  Jake.  He  wondered  if  he  was 
killed.  He  was  about  to  crawl  up  to  him,  when  the  blan- 
ket stirred  and  Jake's  head  peeped  out,  then  went  back. 
"Jake,  oh,  Jake,  are  you  dead?"  asked  Jack,  in  a  whis- 
per. 

"  I  dun  know  ;  b'lieve  I  is,"  answered  Jake.  "  Mos'  dead, 
anyway." 

"  No,  you  ain't.      Is  your  leg  broke  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  No,  'tain't,"  encouraged  jack.  "  Waggle  your  toe  ;  can 
you  waggle  your  toe  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  some,  little  bit,"  whispered  lake,  kicking  under 
the  blanket. 


160  "JACK  AXD  JAKE." 

"  Waggle  your  other  toe — waggle  all  your  toes,"  whis- 
pered Jack. 

The  blanket  acted  as  if  some  one  was  having  a  fit 
under  it. 

"Your  leg  ain't  broke;  you  are  all  right,"  said  Jack. 
"  Come  on." 

Jake  insisted  that  his  leg  was  broken,  and  that  he  could 
not  walk. 

"Crawl,"  said  Jack,  creeping  up  to  him.  "Come  on,  like 
Injins.  It's  getting  day."  He  started  off  through  the  weeds, 
and  Jake  crawled  after  him.  His  ankle  was  sprained,  how- 
ever, and  the  briers  were  thick,  and  he  made  slow  progress, 
so  Jack  crawled  along  by  him  through  the  weeds,  helping 
him. 

They  were  about  half  way  across  the  little  clearing  when 
they  heard  a  noise  behind  them  ;  lights  were  moving  about 
in  the  house,  and,  looking  back,  Jack  saw  men  moving  around 
the  house,  and  a  man  poked  his  head  out  of  the  window. 

"  Here's  where  they  escaped,"  they  called  Another  man 
below  the  window  called  out,  "  Here's  their  track,  where  they 
went.  They  cannot  have  gone  far.  We  can  catch  them." 
They  started  toward  them.  It  was  the  supreme  mo- 
ment. 

"  Run,  Jake  ;  run  for  the  woods,"  cried  Jack,  springing  to 
his  feet  and  pulling  Jake  up.  The}'  struck  out.  Jake  was 
limping,  however,  and  Jack  put  his  arm  under  him  and  sup- 
ported him  along.     They  heard  a  cry  behind  them  of,  "  There 


"JACK  AND  JAKE."  161 

they  go  !  catch  them  !  "  But  they  were  almost  at  the  woods, 
and  a  second  later  they  were  dashing  through  the  bushes, 
heading  straight  for  their  crossing  at  the  old  tree.  After  a 
time  they  had  to  slow  up,  for  Jake's  ankle  pained  him.  Jack 
carried  him  on  his  back  ;  but  he  was  so  heavy  he  had  fre- 
quently to  rest,  and  it  was  broad  day  before  they  got  near 
the  river.  They  kept  on,  however,  and  after  a  time  reached 
the  stream.  There  Jake  declared  he  could  not  cross  the 
poles.  Jack  urged  him,  and  told  him  he  would  help  him 
across.  He  showed  him  how.  Jake  was  unstrung,  and  could 
not  try  it.  He  sat  down  and  cried.  Jack  said  he  would  go 
home  and  bring  him  help.  Jake  thought  this  best.  Jack 
crawled  over  the  pole,  and  was  nearly  across,  when,  looking 
back,  he  saw  a  number  of  soldiers  on  the  hill  riding  through 
the  woods. 

"  Come  on,  Jake  ;  here  they  come,"  he  called.  The  sol- 
diers saw  him  at  the  same  moment,  and  some  of  them  started 
down  the  hill.  A  shot  or  two  were  fired  toward  them  ;  Jake 
began  to  cry.  Jack  was  safe,  but  he  turned  and  crawled  back 
over  the  pole  toward  him.  "  Come  on,  Jake  ;  they  are  com- 
ing.     They  won't  hit  you — you  can  get  over." 

Jake  started  ;  Jack  waited,  and  reached  out  his  hand  to 
him.  Jake  had  gotten  over  the  worst  part,  when  his  foot 
slipped,  and  with  a  cry  he  went  down  into  the  water.  Jack 
caught  his  hand,  but  it  slipped  out  of  his  grasp.  He  came 
up  with  his  arms  beating  wildly.  "  Help — help  me  !  "  he 
cried,  and  went  down  again.      In  went  Jack  head  foremost, 


1 62  "JACK  AXD  JAKE" 


and  caught  him  by  the  arm.  Jake  clutched  him.  They  came 
up.     Jack  thought  he  had  him  safe.     "  I've  got  you,"  he  said. 

"  Don't "      But  before  he  could  finish  the  sentence,  Jake 

flung  his  arm  around  his  neck  and  choked  him,  pulling  him 
down  under  the  water,  and  getting  it  into  his  throat  and  nos- 
trils. Jack  struggled,  and  tried  to  get  up,  but  he  could  not  ; 
Jake  had  him  fast.  He  knew  he  was  drowning.  He  remem- 
bered being  down  on  the  bottom  of  the  river  and  think- 
ing" that  if  he  could  but  get  Jake  to  the  top  again  he  would 
be  safe.  He  thought  that  the  Yankees  might  save  him.  He 
tried,  but  Jake  had  him  tight,  choking  him.  He  thought 
how  he  had  brought  him  there  ;  he  thought  of  his  mother 
and  father,  and  that  he  had  not  seen  his  mother  that  morn- 
ing, and  had  not  said  his  prayers,  and  then  he  did  not  know 
anything  more. 

The  next  thing  he  knew,  some  one  said,  "  He's  all  right," 
and  he  heard  confused  voices,  and  was  suffering  some  in  his 
chest  and  throat,  and  he  heard  his  mother's  voice,  and  open- 
ing his  eyes  he  was  in  a  tent.  She  was  leaning  over  him, 
crying  and  kissing  him,  and  there  were  several  gentlemen 
around  the  bed  he  was  on.  He  was  too  weak  to  think  much, 
but  he  felt  glad  that  his  mother  was  there.  "  I  went  back 
after  Jake,"  he  said,  faintly. 

"Yes,  you  did,  like  a  man,"  said  a  gentleman  in  an  offi- 
cer's uniform,  bending  over  him.      "  We  saw  you." 

Jack  turned  from  him.  "  Mother,"  he  said,  feebly,  "  we 
carried  the  horse  back,  but " 


"JACK  AND  JAKE."  16 


j 


"  He  is  just  outside  the  door,"  said  the  same  gentleman  ; 
"  he  belongs  to  you.  His  owner  has  presented  him  to 
you. 

"  To  me  and  Jake  !  "  said  Jack.  "  Where  is  Jake  ? "  But 
they  would  not  let  him  talk.     They  made  him  go  to  sleep. 


THE    END. 


SCRIBNER'S  "BOOKS  FOR   THE   YOUNG. 


STORIES    FOR    BOYS 


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THE  AMERICAN  GIRL'S  HANDY  BOOK; 

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in  Normandy,  by  an  aunt  who  is  a  recluse  and  devote.  A  child 
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hes    it 
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OR,  WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  MISS  MINCHIN'S. 

Richly  and  Fully  Illustrated  by  R.  B.  Birch. 

One  volume,  square  8vo,       ....         $1.00. 

FROM  LOUISE  CHANDLER  MOULTON : 

"  Everybody  was  in  love  with  '  Little  Lord  Fauntleroy,'  and 
I  think  all  the  world  and  the  rest  of  mankind  will  be  in  love 
with  '  Sara  Crewe.'    I  wish  every  girl  in  America  could  read  it." 


